


Screech

by NightwingsAngel



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Justice League of America (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Damian Wayne is Batman, F/M, Family Drama, Female Protagonist, Hurt/Comfort, Murder Mystery, Next-Gen, Nightwing is dead, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible Character Death, Romance, next generation of superheros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-05-16 13:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightwingsAngel/pseuds/NightwingsAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years ago Nightwing was murdered while on patrol, leaving behind his ten-year-old daughter. Not wanting to screw up his granddaughter and hoping to keep her as far away from the vigilante life as possible, Bruce Wayne entrusted the girl to Clack Kent and his wife Lois. Despite being Superman, the Kents attempted to keep the girl off the streets but now -nine years later -her father's murderers are back and this time they're after her. Larkin Grayson flees Metropolis, hoping to lure her pursuers away from her adoptive family. She finds herself back in Gothem, where her whole story began, and comes to make some unlikely acquaintances. With the help of Posion Ivy's son and Red Hood's daughter, she sets out to stop her father's murderers once and for all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Gotham

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Batman fanfiction, so be nice. Please. But do feel free to leave comments. I love getting feedback from my readers.

Wanted: Female roommate. Must be neat, orderly, and not allergic to cats. For two bedroom apartment. Rent $200 a month. Apartment address: 305 West James Street, Poppyfeild Apartments. Apartment number 45. 

Larkin stared down at the newspaper article in her hand. It had been ripped from its original page in a rush. In a hurried attempt to escape. Her lack of umbrella had left the paper nearly unreadable. But that hardly mattered, for she had read it enough times in the last week to know what it said. She held it gently, trying not to tear it, as its flesh was too fragile. It was starting to fray, to rip on its own, and was threatening to turn into mush.

With a cold December setting in, the rain was not so much rain as it was ice. Tiny shards of prickling pain that would sting her flesh upon contact. Her cheeks were red. Her ears numb. She could see her own breath creating vapors in the air. 

The numbers on the building before her were black and the 5 was hanging upside down. She threw a quick look down either side of the street, half expecting a psychopath to jump out of the shadows and steal her away. It would be the least unsurprising thing that had happened to her in a month. The least unsurprising thing that had happened to her in her whole life. 

The streets were vacant that evening and the shadows climbed the buildings like creeping vines. She took a shaky breath as she carefully placed one sneaker clad foot on the first step of the apartment building. She didn’t want to be there, back in that city, but she had no choice. It was the last place anyone would think to look for her. 

She had never dreamt that she’d be back in that city, let alone staring up at the numbers on an apartment building in the part of town her father had warned her about. Graffiti covered the outside walls of the building, the streets were cracked, and in one window, high above her head, hung a neon sign that read ‘Hell’s Here’. 

The streetlights were busted, broken glass littered the sidewalks and a crumbling structure sat across the street. Its brick scorched from a fire and its insides gutted so all that remained were the charred bones and tendons of an old toy store. It was certainly the last place they’d look for her. It was certainly the last place she wanted to be. She had little choice in the matter though, as her situation was life or death. If she hadn’t fled home she would have been killed. She was already being hunted, like the rodent she was. 

No doubt her foster parents would alert her oldest living relative to her disappearance, and no doubt the old man would give a stony reply. She’d never expect him to come looking for her, and he’d never expect her to come looking for him. Which made Gotham the ideal hiding place.

Taking the steps between herself and the apartment building door with newfound confidence, she ran a pale digit down the list of numbers beside the buzzer. Apartment number 45’s number was barely visible, but unlike some of the other numbers it still existed. She pressed the button next to it and sucked in a breath. She could be meeting a retired Joker for all she knew, though with the comment about cats in the wanted ad it was more likely she’d end up face to face with Catwoman.

“If you’ve got my Chinese, leave it at the door, if I owe you money come back in a week, and if you’re selling something then don’t waste my time,” a female voice spoke through the speaker.

“Um, hi,” Larken spoke back. “I’m here about the apartment. You did place an ad in the paper didn’t you?” 

There was a slight buzz and an audible click as the door to the building was unlocked.

“Up the stairs. You know the number,” the person inside said before the speaker clicked off.

Larkin stared at the door for a moment before hurrying to open it before the lock engaged again. The inside of the building was no better than the out. The white tiled floor was a spider web of cracks and the stairs looked less than sturdy. The walls were decorated in an ugly yellow floral paper that probably had been white once upon a time.

Larkin took the steps two at a time, in a rush to get off the rickety contraption. Boards creaked beneath her and that alone put enough fear in her to send her heart fluttering. She barely weighed anything; only 107lbs. If her light weight was enough to make the stairs groan she doubted they’d be alive much longer.

Finding the 45th apartment was easy. It was just down the hall at the top of the stairs, on the fourth floor. Each set of stairs was as untrustworthy as the first and she found herself half running up the stairs in fear that they would collapse beneath her. 

She let out a sigh of relief when she reached the top step and threw a cautious look back down the stairs. Before her was a hall with an oriental rug running the length of it, though it wasn’t nearly as classy as it was meant to be. Large stains decorated and discolored the rug. She counted five burn marks as she passed by door after door. Each door had a number on it, though some of their numbers were hanging upside down and others were missing entirely. 

When she reached door number 45 she stared at the upside down five hanging from it and the four that had been made of screws and nails glued together. Painted on the door, in black spray paint, was a pentagram. A large patch of duct tape covered the lower left of the door, cutting across part of the pentagram. Tendrils of cracks spread out a short distance from under the tape and Larkin wondered just what had been the cause of the hole the tape was concealing. 

There was a strong earthy aroma ghosting through the hall. One that smelled of fertilizer and pesticides. Larkin figured the smell was coming from the room across the hall, which had a door covered in ivy and various potted plants sitting outside. An odd lantern hung outside the door, It’s brass frame peeked out from beneath the ivy winding around it and it’s glass was chipped –completely shattered on one side. As far as Larkin could see, there was no actual light inside the lantern. It’s only purpose seemed to be décor.

A laugh that sounded a little too close to a hiss for comfort floated out from beneath the earth claimed door. Larkin, who wasn’t easily frightened, shivered at the sound. It wasn't a threatening sound, but an odd one. An inhuman one. It was the hiss of a snake joined with the boyish chuckle of a young man. It was both enticing and repelling. 

Larkin forced herself to take a deep breath, almost gagging on the too strong earthy scent. She straightened and tried to brush some of the dirt off her clothes before knocking on the door of apartment 45. Her fist hovered over the door for a moment before she quickly brought it down, leaving three rasps on the wooden surface.

The door was instantly jerked open, revealing a girl with dangling crystal earrings, a black nose ring, and purple hair swept up in a tangle of abused strands. A lean black cat was draped across the girl’s shoulders, peering at Larkin with unblinking golden-green eyes. The can yawned, its pointed teeth showing and it pawed at its owner’s shoulder. 

The cat’s owner was clad in only an oversized purple shirt that hung off one shoulder and ended above her kneecaps. In fancy cursive script, across the front of the shirt was written “The Glacier Lounge”. Her feet were covered in black combat boots and a star bracelet donned her left wrist.

“You must be the prospective resident,” the girl grinned, her teal eyes crinkling. 

Larkin nodded as she felt the other girl’s eyes roam over her. They were about the same age -nineteen years and counting-but looked absolutely nothing alike. She could only imagine what the other girl was thinking of her pixie cut raven hair and the bright blue eyes that hung above the bridge of freckles that ran over her nose. She knew her clothes looked bad. They were dirty and her leather jacket covered a worn white tank top. Her jeans were torn, ripped at the knees, and her shoes were a pair of old sneakers. She could feel the grease in her hair from having not showered in a couple days and was pretty sure that there were a few dark streaks running down her cheeks from the mascara she had put on in an attempt to hide how tired she was. All she had with her was a worn blue backpack with a silver bird keychain hanging from it. 

The girl leaned against the doorframe of her home, looking Larkin up and down. “You look like trash. The name’s Lynx. Lynx Jacobs.”

“I’m Larkin. Larkin…Larkin,” Larkin hesitated on telling her last name. 

Lynx raised a purple dyed brow. “Larkin Larkin? Odd name. I’m guessing you’re on the run.”

“What makes you think that?”

“No real last name, dirty clothes, caring only a backpack…you fit the criteria.” 

Larkin shifted uneasily. 

“Look,” Lynx spoke up after a moment of silence passed between them. “Tell me your last name or not, I don’t care. I need a roommate. Rent’s 200 a month. I know, freaking ridiculous for a place like this, but you get perks for it.”

“Perks?”

“Protection.”

“From who?” 

Lynx smirks. “You got a job?”

“No. Not yet. I just got back in town. I haven’t…”

“Criminal past?”

“Uh…”

“Parental criminal past?”

“Uh…”

“Frick, you’re a plain Jane, aren’t ya?” 

“Not really,” Larkin admitted. “But no criminal past. My life was on the other side of the fence.”

Lynx let out a loud laugh. “A hero? Ha! What’s your kind doing in a place like this?”

“Like you said, I’m on the run. No, I don’t want to elaborate on that. Look, I don’t have a job and I can’t pay anything up front. I’ve got a twenty-five cents on me and that’s it, but I swear I’ll find work.” 

“I’ve got work. It’s whether or not you’re willing to do it.”

Larkin cocked her head. Who was this girl and why was she offering her work without having even known her for five minutes. The girl knew nothing about her and yet she seemed perfectly at ease with the idea of working and living with her. 

“What kind of work?” Larkin asked cautiously. 

“Illegal work. Not exactly criminal but more that than hero,” Lynx answered. She pushed away from the doorframe and stepped aside, allowing enough room for Larkin to comfortably slip by her. “I’ll tell ya what. You come in and crash on the couch for the night. If I can’t trust me by morning then you’re free to leave or find some other form of a paycheck. If you do trust me, well, then you join my friend and I in a little game we like to call catch the vigilantes.”


	2. Potential Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larkin encounters who may be her future roomate, as well as the kind of cute/kind of strange boy that lives across the hall.

Lynx’s couch was a lump of broken springs and empty cushions, but it was far better than the park bench Larkin slept on the night before so she wasn’t about to complain. She dropped her backpack on the floor by the couch and took a seat as Lynx wandered around the room looking for a clean coffee cup. She’d been in the apartment for a grand total of an hour and had learned that it was two bedroom with a bath. The room that would be hers, should she choose to stay, had an exposed brick wall and three other walls that were white. There was a hole in the floor that had a board laying over it. Lynx promised that the rest of the floor was perfectly stable. It was just that that particular spot had been an unfortunate victim of a Venus flytrap. Larkin didn’t even pretend to understand what the girl was talking about with the plant.

Lynx had laughed and waved off Larkin’s curious look, saying, “It’ll make sense once you meet my friend. He’s a bit rough around the edges but I think you’ll find that he grows on you,” She snickered to herself. 

“Ah Ha!” Lynx exclaimed, drawing Larkin’s attention to her from her spot on the floral printed couch. The purple haired girl was victoriously holding a clean coffee cup in her hand. “I knew I had one around here somewhere!”

Larkin offered a small smile, glancing around the cluttered floor of the living room. “You know, if I stay I could help you clean up a little.”

“I never have time to clean. You won’t either if you stay,” there was that smirk again. “You’ll find that working by night and living by day can be draining, but we’ll discuss chores, and cleaning routines, and all that later. For now,” a cup of lukewarm coffee was handed to Larkin, “let’s start with the basics.”

Lynx folded herself into a three and a half legged chair that was being supported by a stack of books. Some of whose titles were, ‘The Inmates of Arkham,’ ‘Unmasking the Bat,’ and ‘E. Nigma’s Riddles.’ 

“I already know you’re of hero linage,” Lynx sipped on her own cup of bitter coffee. “You don’t have to tell me your parents or anything but it is nice to meet a fellow hero-ling. Most of these parts are filled with the children of villains. I’m sort of the odd ball here.” 

“You’re of hero linage?” Larkin questioned.

“You tell me yours I’ll tell you mine?” Lynx grinned like a Cheshire cat.

“Not yet,” Larkin stated. “Tell me, first, you said that there were perks involved with living here. Specifically protection.”

“A lot of us residents have pasts; people we’re running from. We’re under the protection of a gang. The Red Hood gang. Have you heard of them?” 

Larkin chocked on her coffee. “Red Hood guards this place?”

Lynx’s face scrunched up. “You do know him.”

“Of him,” Larkin corrected. “I’ve never actually met him. I’ve heard stories though.”

“Good or bad?”

“Both. I was spared no details.”

Lynx nodded. “I don’t care what people say, he’s an okay guy. He does his best to keep the cops away from here and he’s taken care of more than a few of the people after us. Some say he’s the failure of the bat pack. I say he’s the savior. He did more for us lost generation than any of the others have. Than any of our parents’ generation has.”

“My dad believed he was a good guy. He told me Red Hood was misunderstood.”

“Your dad sounds like a wise man.”

“Yeah, he was,” Larkin trailed off. She shook her head before clearing her throat. “So this vigilante work you mentioned. I’m guessing it’s for Red Hood.”

“He gives us the odd job every now and then. Okay, almost every night, but it pays. Like, seriously. If we do the job we don’t pay rent and we get some cash. If we turn a job down, that’s money we owe. Simple as that. Every job is optional, though. If you figure $50 per job with $200 worth of rent, you really only have to work four jobs a month to pay the bill. You do those four jobs, you have no bills. Its how Sylas and I get by.”

“Sylas? Is he your boyfriend?”

“Heck no! He’s just a friend.”

“The friend with the Venus flytrap?”

“The friend with the Venus flytrap. He’s an okay guy. You’ll meet him later. We have a job tonight. I thought I’d let you tag along. If you like it, you can work with us. We’ll tell Hood you’re part of our squad. We’ll get a bit harder jobs, but…” she shrugged. “What about you, though? You got a lover hidden somewhere?”

“No. Dating doesn’t really work out for me. Ever since my dad died, I haven’t had many friends. I didn’t really have many before that but at least I knew a few people I got along with. When I moved to Metropolis, I just didn’t...fit in…anywhere.”

“You’re from Metropolis?” Lynx asked. 

“I was raised there. Mostly.” 

“Where were you born?”

Larkin paused, taking a sudden interest in the grounds swimming in her coffee. “Here, actually.” 

“You’re Gotham born? Nice!” Lynx praised. “I can see why you were shipped off though. Pretty dark place to grow up in. Though, if it’s your foster parents that you’re running from then your life in Metropolis must not have been a picnic either.” 

“I’m not running from them!” Larkin was quick to correct. “My foster parents were great. They were even going to put me through college. They knew my dad and have been around since I was a baby. I loved them.”

“Then why’d you run?”

“You know…things…” 

Lynx nodded. “I get it. Touchy subject. Okay, say no more. You can tell me when you’re ready. If it helps, my mom’s my hero lineage. My dad’s my criminal. I’ve got a bit of both bloods in me. I came here because my dad pissed off the wrong people. Had a bounty on my head. Got tired of being kidnapped. My mom and I are too much alike, so when Red Hood offered me a place here in exchange for work…” she took a deep breath. “I couldn’t turn him down. And those people that were after me? They’re dead now.”

Larkin opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as the door to Lynx's, and possibly her own, apartment was thrown open unceremoniously. 

“Lynx, you witch, why are you always sending your food to my place? You know I don’t eat this crap,” a tall crimson-haired boy spoke as he entered the room carrying a bag of Chinese food. He froze, only a couple steps away from the door, when he spotted Larkin watching him from her spot on the dusty old couch. A slow, bright grin graced the boy’s mouth and Larkin almost gasped when she saw the set of fangs situated at the front of his bite. “Who’s your friend?”

“Larkin. She’ll hopefully be my roommate,” Lynx stated with a smirk of her own. Larkin was beginning to think the smirk was carved into Lynx, for the other girl had barely been without some sort of smile since welcoming her guest. 

“Larkin,” the boy’s voice was a low buzz. He dropped the bag of Chinese food in Lynx’s lap, causing the girl to squeal as she accidentally splashed herself with coffee. “Lark. Like the bird. I like birds. They’re mother nature’s music boxes.” 

Lynx snorted. “Larkin, this seductive serpent is…”

“Sylas,” the boy cut his friend off. He took an exaggerated bow, his slit-pupil green eyes locking with the blue of Larkin’s. 

The dark haired girl could see why Lynx called the boy a seductive serpent. His eyes, the bright green of aloe, were enticing. She found it hard to tear her gaze from his. Those eyes, coupled with his smile made it obvious that some of his features were more serpent than human. Then there was his hair, as red as a summer rose and gracefully framing his tan face. 

Sylas was dressed simply, though not as casually as Lynx. He had on a loose fitting green shirt that, had they been outside, the wind would have no doubt had an easy time playing with. The jeans he wore were dusty, covered in grime and covered the top of his ripped sneakers. A heavy earthy scent clung to him. The same scent Larkin had smelt in the hall. The smell of fertilizer and pesticides. The smell of rich, moist earth. His scent was all spring grass and freshly plowed soil. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Larkin spoke, her breath catching as Sylas took her hand in his, his breath tickling the back of it. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Sylas chuckled to himself before straightening. “What part of this cruel world do we have to thank for you crawling out of?”

“Metropolis,” Lynx answered for Larkin. “Though she was born here. Sylas is of villain origin. On both sides. Unlike us.”

“She’s a hero?” Green eyes grew in size. 

Lynx hummed in response to him before continuing to speak to Larkin. “You’ve probably heard of both his parents.” 

“Really?” Larkin inquired. “Were they, are they, major villains?” 

“They spent a lot of time in Blackgate Prison and Arkham Assylum,” Sylas took a seat beside Larkin. “My father was a strong, intelligent man, but his addiction to a certain yellow serum created a monster out of him. Of course he was the son of a criminal and was born in a prison, so perhaps he was a monster before the serum.”

“You’re also the son of a criminal, does that make you a monster?” Larkin remarked. 

“Sometimes,” a sadness fell over the boy’s features. “I share the same addiction as my father.”

“You’re not addicted,” Lynx cut in. Her voice was soft, like she was comforting a child. “You use your father’s venom only when necessary.”

“Sometimes necessary is too often. You have no idea how much it hurts coming off of.”

“Give yourself some credit. You’re more like your mother than your father.”

“The only reason I can resist the urge to use so often,” Sylas informed. His attention returned to Larkin after a moment of staring at Lynx. “My father was Bane, if you haven’t figured that out. My mother, who my more favorable aspects come from, was an extreme environmentalist. She’s tried to destroy society more than once in the name of Mother Nature.”

“Your mother was Poison Ivy,” Larkin stated, to which Sylas nodded. 

“She hasn’t gone by that name in years. Not since I was real young. She prefers to be called by her given name now. Pamela Isley. She lives in a remote place. A little cottage out in the country. She prefers to stay as far from society as possible. I was raised there. Only occasionally did I come to Gotham as a child.” 

“Are you a Dorrance then?” 

Sylas let out a breathy laugh. “I have my mother’s maiden name. My father has no claim to me on paper. How about you? Who are your parents?”

“She’s not ready,” Lynx saved Larkin from answering. “She doesn’t trust us yet.”

“Naturally. Who’d trust a snake and demoness? Will she be joining us tonight?”

Lynx didn’t answer this time. Instead, Larkin gave a curt nod. “I’m interested to see what kind of work you do. Hopefully it is something I can get on with so I can live here.” 

“Did you get the job from Hood?” Lynx asked and though her eyes were on Larkin her voice was addressing Sylas, who was also staring at who they hoped would be their new companion. 

“There’s a guy named Thomas Loan. Our job is simple. Hood’s meeting him tonight at Loan’s new club that opened on 95th. We’re to go undercover there. He wants us to sneak into the back and steal the plans from the safe while he meets with the guy,” Sylas explained. 

“Pretty basic,” Lynx remarked. “Is he predicting a lot of trouble?”

“Not during club hours. We’ll have a few lackeys to deal with but most should be attending to their boss’s meeting. Loan isn’t stupid enough to meet with Hood without his backup.”

“You still in, Larkin?” Lynx questioned. 

“Sounds simple enough. Pretty elementary and I’m sure with Red Hood involved everything’s been planned out,” Larkin thought aloud. “I’ll give it a go.”

“Excellent!” Lynx cheered. She dug into her bag of food and tossed a white container to her new friend. “Eat up, girl. You don’t want to get the munchies on the job.” 

“She needs a name,” Sylas stated as another white box was thrown his way. He caught the box expertly, though he didn't open it. Instead, he stared down at the white container in disgust. “We can’t call her Larkin while working.”

“Hmmm,” Lynx flipped herself so she was laying upside down in her chair. A box of food was in her hand the bag it came from lay on the ground, spilling two other boxes from it. “How about Lark? Or Nightingale. Her name already sounds like a bird, might as well use it as a theme for her other persona.”

“Hummingbird?”

“Do you see what she’s wearing? She’s not colorful enough for that name.”

“Bird, then.”

“Unoriginal.” 

“I already have a name,” Larkin chimed in. “When I was a kid, I’d go on easy missions with my dad. Small ones that he didn’t think would turn into any trouble. He gave me the name Screech, which I used when I moved to Metropolis and decided that having a night life would be a good idea…much to the dismay of my foster parents.” 

“I like it,” Sylas beamed. “Screech. It fits. You have a costume?” 

Larkin nodded. 

“Cool!” Sylas grinned. 

“Everything is falling together so perfectly,” Lynx stated with her bright smile, “That it’s almost like destiny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to anyone reading this!


	3. Suiting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larkin prepares for her first mission with who could possibly be her new team.

As soon as darkness engulfed Gotham, Larkin found herself in front of the mirror in Lynx’s bathroom. She had little in the way of clothes, but she had managed to bring along the outfit she’d previously used for her night time activities.

Fighting crime ran in her family, but her foster parents had been avidly against her engaging in it. She had tried hard to keep her vigilante work hushed but Clark and Lois had thrown a fit the one time she’d screwed up and they found out that all her little ‘sleepovers’ with the bestie were really excuses for her to help clean up the streets of Metropolis. She’d prided herself in not being caught in so long -it took Clark three months to find out –but with her foster father being Superman, she had known that any time of him not knowing was a miracle. Of course, it helped that for most of the three months he hadn’t known he’d been off planet. She could imagine what he and Lois would have to say if they could see her now.

Dressed in all black leather, with a black domino mask blocking her eyes from sight, she looked very much like her father’s daughter. The little silver bird hanging from the necklace hidden beneath her top was further proof of her parentage.

 _“Hey, chickadee,”_ she could remember her father’s words when he’d knelt before her on her eighth birthday; his black hair falling in front of his blue eyes and a grin on his face. There were very few times that she could remember him not smiling. He'd been happy and hyper by nature. Always joking. In his hands he’d held a small square box which contained her treasured necklace. _“Happy birthday. I’ve got something special for you.”_

She’d been excited to see the little silver bird for the first time and every day since. It was one of the few things she had that had at one time belonged to her father. That necklace and the set of escrima sticks strapped to her back, were the only things she owned of his. After his death, most of his equipment and costumes went to her grandfather. A lot of his documents had to be shredded and all of his technology was either destroyed or cleared of memory and repurposed. Even Larkin herself was given way. Treated like a relic. Like a souvenir picked up at the gift shop of the past, which only held sentimental value for the purchaser.

Her grandfather had barely said a word to her at the funeral. When she’d sat across the table from him as her guardianship was discussed, she felt like nothing more than a ghost. To her grandfather’s credit, he had hesitated before telling Clark that he didn’t want her. Still, she cried that night as Clark helped pack her bags and Lois held her.

Why hadn’t he wanted her? She had asked that same question many times that night and many more since. And what of her uncles? Her father’s adopted brothers? Wouldn’t one of them be willing to take her in?

_“I’m sorry sweetie,” Lois had pet her hair and wiped away her tears. “He does want you, he’s just…not able to take you in right now.”_

_Clark had paused at that, Larkin’s pink teddy bear in his hands. “Your grandfather cares about you, but he hasn’t had the best luck with children. He wants to give you your best chance.”_

Her grandfather had thought that sending her to Metropolis would be giving her her best chance. Clark and Lois thought it’d be giving her her best chance. They all thought it was. Every one of them. The whole Justice league; all of her father's friends. But it wasn’t. Was it? she still got into trouble. The ones that killed her father still found her. They still came after her and they threatened her life. She had to leave, for Clark and Lois, and their family's sake. She had to keep them safe. She was being hunted and the assassins after her wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

“Larkin!” a pounding on the bathroom door pulled her from her thoughts. It was Lynx’s voice that met her ears. “Larkin, you ready girl? It’s time to hit the streets. Hood’s meeting starts in an hour and we’ve got to be in position.”

“I-I’m coming!” Larkin called out. Tonight would be her first time working with a team. She hoped she wouldn’t screw up. Lynx and Sylas seemed like nice people. She could see herself living with Lynx and helping her patch up the holes Sylas’ plants left in their floor. It wouldn’t be the nice clean, sparkling apartment that her foster parents kept, but it’d be good. It’s be more than good. She could be on her own and have friends, and with Red Hood protecting them maybe she’d even be safe.

Opening the bathroom door, she stepped out into the living room. Lynx was standing just outside the bathroom door with her purple hair still as frazzled as when she’d first seen her. She was dressed in a purple dress with black heeled boots that reached up to her kneecaps. A lacy black masquerade mask covered her eyes. Her star bracelet still graced her wrist, but now there were tiny symbols drawn over her arms with what looked like eyeliner.

“Wow, Larkin! Or should I say, Screech.” Lynx whistled. “You look great! A genuine bird of the night.”

“You too,” Larkin smiled.

“Wow is right,” it was Sylas’ voice that drew Larkin’s attention to the door. The crimson haired boy was leaning against the door frame. His costume was a green tunic styled shirt with a black utility belt slung across his chest. His pants were a pair of black jeans and he wore a sturdy pair of boots. A glimmer of gold caught Larkin’s eye and she realized that the utility belt Sylas wore wasn’t a utility belt at all. It was some sort of leather strap that was holding various vials. A thin cord ran from inside the leather strip to where it disappeared beneath the fabric of his shirt, at the back of his neck. A yellow serum was flowing through the cord.

“You look, great,” Sylas finished speaking. “Cool Escrima sticks.”

“Um, thanks,” Larkin brushed part of her bangs out of her eyes. “So, what do I call you both tonight?”

“I’m Hex,” Lynx did a little twirl. “Mistress of darkness. Princess of demons. I use magic.”

“I’m Vegan,” Sylas informed. “My plants and chemical concoctions will have your back.”

“You nervous?” Lynx asked her would be roommate.

Larkin didn’t even have to think before answering with a solid, “Absolutely not.”

Sylas suddenly clapped his hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road then. Hood’s expecting us.”


	4. First Night as a Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larkin (Screech), Sylas (Vegan), and Lynx (Hex) find out if the three of them could perhaps function as a team.

The club wasn’t anything special, not as far as Screech could tell. It was located on the corner of 95th and Bacilli. It looked like most nightclubs did with its annoyingly bright neon signs that drew in patrons like dogs to a bone. A bouncer stood out front with his oversized muscles pushing against the fabric of his too tight shirt. His arms were crossed and he wore sunglasses, despite the sun having left the sky.

Screech was crouched outside of the club, by a trash bin in the ally across from it. Vegan was beside her. As was Hex. What they were waiting for, she didn’t know. They had insisted that they wait in the ally.

“We need a clear view of the entrance,” Vegan had stated.

“We have to wait for the signal,” Hex had explained vaguely.

So Screech waited, with the smell of garbage abusing her nostrils and the ice like rain pelting down against her. She sat there frozen. Her muscles barely twitched from how she rested her weight on her ankles and heels.

 _“The shadows are your friends,”_ her father had once told her. “ _Stay in them when you can. They’ll keep you hidden. Even then, remain still. People don’t questions sleeping shadows, it’s the ones that move that draw their attention.”_

Her father, unlike his father before him, hadn’t given her a bright suit so she’d have to learn to not rely on the shadows. He’d given her all black attire and told her to stay in the shadows. Looking back, he was a tad protective and a little reluctant to let her out on the streets at night. Yet, when you’re a single father working as a police officer by day and taking down some of Gotham and Bludhaven’s most notorious criminals by night, you did what you had to in order to survive. Finding a babysitter for her on weekends, during the day, was a challenge in and of itself. Finding one at night was near impossible. Especially when everyone he knew and trusted to watch her were out doing the same exact thing he was.

Larkin realized now that her father hadn’t ever really wanted her involved in his career, but that he was forced to let her participate in it. He trained her out of necessity, not desire. He’d taught her how to hold escrima sticks and how to throw a proper uppercut not because it made for some good father-daughter bonding, but because he was scared of what might happen to her if he didn’t.

“There he is,” Vegan’s breath was close to Screech’s ear. The heat of it brushed her earlobe and sent shivers down her spine. He was looking straight ahead at a motorcycle that had just pulled up in front of the club. A man in leather jacket and a red helmet was getting off the bike. Screech watched as the man, who she knew to be Red Hood, tucked a gun into the back of his pants, underneath his jacket, before heading for the club entrance.

Unlike with the dozens of other patrons the young team of vigilantes had watched come and go that night, the bouncer didn’t pay Red Hood any mind. In fact, he seemed to be purposely avoiding any acknowledgment of the other man’s presence. He turned his head, staring at something on the brick wall to his right as the biker walked by him. Patrons didn’t even complain. They stepped aside, letting the well known gang leader through.

Right before Red Hood stepped inside, he turned ever so slightly. His gaze met the alley Larkin and her friends were stationed in. She couldn’t tell if he could see them, but he knew they were there. As was proven when he looked towards the sky –where a large yellow beacon proudly displayed the silhouette of a bat against the night’s dark clouds –and then down at the grimy street.

“That’s it,” Hex whispered. “That’s the signal.”

“We move once he’s in,” Vegan added.

“Roof top or back exit?” Hex asked.

“Neither. Loan was clever when he designed this place. There’s am entrance in this ally. Probably built to smuggle some kind of goods. We’ll be entering through there. Hood showed me the building layout when he gave me the job,” Vegan informed. “Once we get in, they’ll be a long hall. We’ll follow it until it opens up. After that, it’s a matter of finding the safe. It’ll probably be in Loan’s office.”

“Probably,” Hex agreed. “Where’s this entrance at?”

Vegan stood. He took not more than four steps away from them, going deeper into the ally’s shadows, before stopping and crouching. Screech watched as he closed his eyes, his hand hovering above the ground. There was groan and a clicking sound and she realized that he’d manipulated the weeds around the area to help crack open a hidden door in the ground. “Coming?” He asked as he dragged the heavy door further open.

“We’re right behind you,” Screech promised as both she and Hex moved in sync to join their companion.

Vegan spared them a grin before dropping into the hole feet first. A soft thud could be heard as he completely disregarded the ladder leading down and landed in the hall with all his weight. Screech and Hex followed behind him.

The hall was long and plane. Made of concrete with small lights embedded into the walls. Their steps echoed as they walked making Screech cringe. Noise was a no-no in her family’s book. It was a rule, when sneaking about to keep all sounds as quiet as possible. She was supposed to remain undetected. There was no way to do that in the hall, though. All smooth surfaces and low ceilings. Even if she had a grappling hook with her, she wouldn’t get her feet very far off the ground.

“This Loan guy must not have very many tall people working for him,” Screech muttered as they walked. She could easily fit in the hall but a man of six foot or more would have trouble. Even Vegan, who she guessed to be a little less than six foot tall, walked slouched so he wouldn’t hit his head.

“Loan’s been involved in multiple criminal rings in the past six months. Before that he served a two year sentence at Blackgate. He was supposed to be there for five but he got out on good behavior,” Vegan stated.

“We think the whole think was a set up. His capture was easy the first time. He didn’t even fight when the Bat took him in,” Hex added.

“Batman kept a close eye on him for a while but with other villains to worry about he eventually had to turn his attention in other directions. That’s when Hood stepped in,” Vegan continued. “He and the Bat aren’t always on the same team but occasionally they pair up on cases. Batsy gave Loan’s case to Hood and Hood’s been keeping tabs on him since. Recent information has us believing that he’s been using children to smuggle his illegal good.”

“What kind of goods does he handle?” Screech asked.

“Have you heard of a villain called Scarecrow?” Vegan returned her question with one of his own.

“Yes. He was a psychiatrist once. Dr. Johnathan Crane, I believe his name was. While working at Arkham asylum he created an airborne toxin that caused fear induced hallucinations,” Screech recited what she remembered reading from one of her father’s files. “What does he have to do with Loan?”

“Loan has the recipe for Scarecrow's toxin. He hasn’t done anything with it yet but he once got a hold of some of my mother’s pollen and created a drug out of it. Basically, he’s been setting himself up to become the evil pharmacist of super villains. Catch is, we don’t know exactly how he plans on distributing the drugs or who his clients are. He’s smuggled goods before, not just drugs but other things too, and he’s been using kids to do it. No one suspects a kid. The plans we’re here to get evolve around this plot.”

“We need to find a way to stop his clients, prevent him from distributing the drugs, or cut off his children workers,” Hex chimed in.

“First one’s basically impossible. It’d take years to work our way into his system far enough to find all of his clients. The second we’d like to accomplish by accomplishing the third. Hood thinks he’s targeting orphanages and bribing the children somehow to work for him,” Vegan stated.

“Why haven’t I heard of this guy before?” Screech wondered aloud. “He sounds like someone my foster parents and father would have kept tabs on.”

“Like I said,” Vegan stopped walking as they reached the end of the hall, “the case was handed to Hood. The boss likes to work alone. He wouldn’t call in any help unless he absolutely had to.”

“We’re the exception,” Hex agreed, “but that’s because we’re not so much help as we are his own special brand of henchmen.”

“Shhh,” Vegan hushed.

Instantly both Screech and Hex were quiet. Footsteps could be heard just a few feet away. Vegan led the trio behind a stack of unmarked crates. Screech moved forward slowly, despite Hex reaching out the grab the back of her top. She managed to peer around the crates to see a group of men milling around the large spacious room they’d entered. Towards the back of the area were two sets of metal stairs, leading up to a platform and a door that she guessed led to the club above. Nestled between the two stair sets was a glass windowed room with a desk, a safe, and a weapon case in it. Quickly, Screech did a head count of the wandering henchmen.

“I count six, maybe seven men,” Screech whispered to her companions.

“That’s not that bad. We can take them,” Hex smirked.

Vegan was hesitant. “We need a plan.”

“Way ahead of you vegie boy,” Hex responded. "Screech and I will distract the henchmen while you find a way to get us into that safe.”

“I can get into the safe,” Screech suggested.

Hex paused. “I don’t know...we don’t know your skill set yet. There could be alarms and stuff on that safe. What if you trigger something?”

Blue eyes rolled. “I can get into that safe and I can do it without leaving any clues behind that it was us.”

“I don’t…” Hex was interrupted by Vegan.

“Okay. Go. But if you need help call out for us. I’ll help Hex with the henchmen.”

Screech nodded with a small smile and a silent, “thank you.” She slunk back into the shadows and slowly made her way around the room, hiding behind crates and equipment as she waited for Hex and Vegan to do their part.

“This is a bad idea,” Hex hissed to her partner.

“You’re the one that invited her along. She says she can do it, we might as well see if she can.”

“But what if she can’t? This wasn’t part of the plan. She was supposed to be backup only. We discussed this!”

“I knew the moment I saw those escrima sticks of hers that there was no way in hell she’d just be backup tonight, and you should have known it too.”

“What are you talking about?”

Vegan watched as Screech knelt behind some crates, waiting for him and Hex to strike. “She’s a hero’s kid from Gothem and she uses escrima sticks. Who have we heard of that used escrima sticks and fought in Gothem?”

Hex shook her head. “You’re not seriously suggesting that she’s a Bat.”

“You know she is. Now, enough talk. We need to get going or our friendly flying rodent will end up dead.”

The purple haired girl let out a rough breath, before rolling out from behind the crates and casting out a spell with outstretched hands. Two guards were blown back into a wall as purple sparks shot from her fingertips. Vines broke through the cement floor and strangled another two as Vegan grinned manically. That was Screech’s cue to run. Bolting forward, she did a flip over another pile of crates before bounding up the short staircase that led up to the office.

The safe was in plain sight. It was a big metal box right beside the desk. A clear sign that Loan thought his compound to be impenetrable. She knelt and got to work immediately. The safe had a keypad. It was a number code and with the make of the contraption she could safely assume the code was six digits in length. Four of the keypad’s buttons were worn down. The numbers 4, 6, 1, and 9. Her eyes began to scan the room, looking for signs of the combination Loan might have used. Her mind automatically listed everything she saw. Plant, desk, chair, clock, phone, trash bin, family photo...wait, family photo.

As she swiped the photo from the desktop she could hear Hex call out a curse and the sounds of responding screams. The photo was of Loan, his wife, and their five kids. None of the kids looked older than eighteen. Carefully, she removed the photo from the frame and flipped it over. On the back she found the inscription she was hoping to.

**Family photo 2016: Johnathan (4), Lilly, (9), Aiden (6), Tommy (6), Jake (16).**

“Here goes nothing,” Screech whispered to herself as she began punching the ages of Loan’s kids into the safe from oldest to youngest. 1-6-9-6-6-4...the safe clicked open and she grinned victoriously. There was a number of papers inside the safe and she wasn’t sure just which ones they were after. So, to be on the safe side, she grabbed the whole pile. With the four folders, stuffed to the brim, in her hands, she closed the safe door and sprinted from the room. She used one arm to hold the folders to her chest as she used the other to flip over a henchman that Vegan had tossed her way.

Hex had started to pile the henchmen together near a card table. She was taking her sweet time posing them as if they had been playing a poker game the whole time. She even stole the two henchmen that Vegan had taken care of.

“Stop playing around,” Vegan hissed. “We need to get out of here. You got the stuff?” The last part of his words were addressed to Screech and she knew it.

“Yeah. It’s all here.”

The door at the top of the duel staircase opened.

“Uh oh,” Hex cursed before grabbing Screech’s elbow and yanking her back towards the hall they’d come in through.

“Hey! Stop right there!” a man called out and a gun was fired.

Screech flinched as the bullet whizzed past her. An inch closer and it would have been buried in her shoulder. She didn’t have time to stop and contemplate that, however, for the guy was racing after them and Vegan was pulling a seed from one of the vials on his chest. He dropped the seed on the ground, stopping to blow some kind of powder over it before he was once again at Screech and Hex’s side. Screech both felt and heard the floor crack as whatever Vegan planted sprang to life with a sickening hissing sound.

There was a scream and Screech turned her head just enough to see the man and three others fighting off a mutant Venus flytrap with some nasty looking teeth. The trio didn’t stop running until they were safely hidden away in the shadows atop one of the nearby apartment buildings.

“What an adrenaline rush,” Hex gasped out while trying to catch her breath. “I’ve got to hand it to you, new girl, you did good work in there.”

“Hope this means you’ll be staying,” Vegan offered Screech a smile that spoke of hidden intent.

“Yeah, yeah,” Screech grinned. She’d forgotten how much of a rush it was to do actual vigilante work. It’d been a while since she’d done anything more than rough up some muggers. And working with a team? That just sweetened the deal. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“I told you that you’d trust me by morning,” Hex boasted. “Question is, do you trust me enough to tell me the name that’ll be added to the lease?”

“Grayson,” Screech breathed. “My last name is Grayson. I’m the daughter of Nightwing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only have one chapter after this that's already written. So after this weekend updates might become slower.


	5. New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Larkin learns that her roommate is actually her cousin and is warned to stay away from any romantic entanglements with Sylas.

It was nearing three in the morning when Larkin and her new companions arrived at the rundown building they were living in. They’d stopped at a 24 hour diner on their way back, where Sylas treated them to shakes and burgers. He’d been insistent on being the one to pay and Larkin had been grateful for that.   
  
Larkin hadn’t had a decent meal in a week and the prospect of eating one made her want to hug Sylas in thanks. Had they been closer, perhaps she would have done just that, but seeing as they’d only known each other for a few hours she felt that falling instep beside him and whispering, “Thanks,” would have to do. He’d smiled in response. It wasn’t a big grin or a sly smirk, but a gentle up turn of the left corner of his mouth.   
  
Lynx had protested Sylas’ offer, saying, “If you pay then I’ll feel obligated to get that veggie crap. I don’t want a soy burger. I want a patty of perfectly cooked cow, covered in lettuce, cheese, and tomato. And I want it drowned in ketchup.”  
  
“Get whatever you want,” Sylas had rolled his brilliant green eyes before settling them on Larkin. “You too, Screech.”  
  
Eating at the diner in masks and with mud caked on their boots hadn’t been as awkward as it should have been. They’d gotten a few suspicious looks from other customers but the waitress had been nice and the cook had given them extra toppings on their burgers.  
  
When Sylas paid, he’d left a decent tip for their waitress and flashed the woman a blinding smile. Larkin could have sworn she saw the older woman swoon. She wondered if the woman just happened to like younger men, since she appeared to be at least twice their age, or if her attraction to Sylas was merely a side effect of him being an Isley. After all, Ivy had been a man eater back when she’d been tearing up the streets of Gotham. It was very possible that her natural, and unnatural, charm was inherited by her son.  
  
“Hey, I’ll take the files for you,” Sylas’ voice cut through Larkin’s thoughts. She blinked, realizing that he was holding the door to their building open and had one hand out stretched for the files in her arms.   
  
“Oh,” Larkin glanced down at the pile of files before handing them to the young man. “Yeah. Here.”   
  
The corner of Sylas’ mouth quirked again. “Thanks. I’ll get them to Hood.”  
  
Larkin nodded and walked past him to enter the building. Lynx was a good distance ahead of them, already being halfway up the first flight of stairs. She was stretching her arms above her head and a grin was plastered on her face.   
  
“You know what, new girl, you didn’t do half bad tonight,” Lynx spoke and Sylas snorted.   
  
“Please, she did wonderful,” Sylas corrected.   
  
“Thanks,” Larkin blushed. She wasn’t used to people complementing her on her skills. Most of the people she called family or friends chastised her for using them.  
  
A strong, long fingered hand rested itself on her shoulder and she looked up to see Sylas looking down at her as they caught up with Lynx. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay. You’ll be a good asset to the team.”  
  
“You’ll be a good asset to the team,” Lynx mocked. “She may be that, but you just want her to stay because she’s a pretty face. You’re such a flirt.”  
  
“Why do you do that?” Sylas challenged.   
  
“Do what?”   
  
“I was trying to be nice and you go and poke fun at it.”  
  
“Blah, blah,” Lynx twirled suddenly to face her friends, causing both of them to stop on their ascent up their final staircase. “It’s all in good nature, veggie boy. You know that.”  
  
Larkin heard the violent exhale that escaped Sylas. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”  
  
“Then don’t sound so distraught,” Lynx chided.   
  
Sylas spared the purple haired girl no more words and the trio continued on their way. Naturally, both girls stopped at their apartment while Sylas continued on to his. While the son of Ivy fumbled with his keys, Lynx muttered a single word and her and Larkin’s door sprung open.  
  
“G’night, loser!” Lynx called out, yanking her mask off her face.  
  
“G’night, witch!” Sylas yelled back at the first girl.   
  
Lynx’s hellish laugh echoed as she left Larkin and Sylas in the hall.   
  
“Hey,” Larkin spoke up softly. Sylas, who had managed to get his key in his lock stopped to look at her. “Thanks again, for diner.”  
  
“It was my pleasure,” Sylas gave her an actual smile this time. His fangs shone beneath the flickering light above them. “Do you have blankets?”  
  
“Um, no. Why?”   
  
“I didn’t think so. Stay there, I’ll be right back.”   
  
Larkin waited in the hall for the crimson haired boy to return with a blanket and pillow in hand.    
  
“It gets kind of chilly here. This should keep you warm,” he handed the green wool blanket and faded pillow to Larkin. “Get some sleep, and don’t fall into the hole in your room. I’ll help you patch that up sometime.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Good night,” Sylas gave an awkward wave.  
  
“Good night,” Larkin smiled.  
  
“You did good tonight,” Hex spoke as her new roommate entered their apartment. She stretched her arms above her. Her back arched like a cat as she yawned and her own feline lay draped across her lap. She hummed as the creature started to purr and cradled it in her arms. Another yawn escaped her. “I mean it. You were better than I expected. Had I known who your dad was, I would have expected it the whole time. Sorry for questioning your abilities.”   
  
“It’s alright,” Larkin took a seat on the three-legged chair across from the couch, where Lynx was lounging. Very gently, she reached up and tugged at the mask on her face. The glue she’d used to stick it on pulled at her skin as the pried the white lens contraption from her eyes. It stung, but just barely. “One of the reasons I didn’t want to tell you at first was because a lot of people judge me based on him. I’m never good enough. Never at his level. Like people think I should be.”  
  
“I get that. Really, I do,” the other girl ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Living in the shadow of the bats is a burden in and of itself. Having others point it out...sometimes you just wish you had different parents or that the earth would open up and swallow you. If I had a penny for every time someone told me that it’s a shame that I’m so much like my father, or that I should be more like him, I’d be one wealthy girl. Hell, I could probably afford my own manor, just like the big ol’ bat himself.”  
  
“Wait,” Larkin blinked, taking in Lynx’s words. “You’re a bat?”   
  
“I guess I owe it to ya. You did help us out tonight and I told you earlier that if you told me your parents I’d tell you mine,” Lynx stared down at her cat, stroking its soft black fur. “You know how I told you my name was Lynx Jacobs?”  
  
“Yes,” the girl with inky hair spoke slowly, drawing out the word so it stretched into an unnaturally long hissing sound.  
  
“That wasn’t entirely true,” Lynx admitted. “You know I’m magically inclined. Or you at least should have figured that out after tonight.”  
  
“You’re pretty wicked with those spells.”  
  
“I get that from my mom. She was big on magic, and meditation, and the dark arts. Prone to existential crises she liked shadows and the color purple. Her name’s Raven.”  
  
“Thee Raven? Like the mistress of darkness? The daughter of the demon Trigon?”  
  
“Yeah, that Raven.”  
  
“Our parents use to work together. They were friends.”  
  
“Oh, it gets better than that,” Lynx sniggered darkly. “Up until six years ago, I never knew who my dad was. I was raised by my mom and spent a lot of time with the Justice League. I didn’t really have the luxury of a normal babysitter. Mostly because I had inherited my mother’s abilities. Including how her powers go supernova if her emotions get too strong. I had a few melt downs, like I actually almost melted down my school once, but other than that everything was fine until I turned thirteen.”  
  
“What happened?”   
  
“You know how it is being that age. I got stressed. I did a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have. That ended up stressing out my mom. She knew that I still had a lot of learning to do but that us two being together, stressing each other out, wasn’t the best situation. I’d gotten greedy for the knowledge of who my dad was. She didn’t want to tell me. She said it was for the best. But then, the week before I turned thirteen I nearly destroyed our house because of a lame comment a classmate had said to me. I wasn’t very good at controlling my emotions, you see,” Lynx lifted her cat, stretching her legs out to prop them on the couch’s arm across from the one her head was laying on. She looked into the feline’s eyes for a moment before continuing. “On my thirteenth birthday my mom gave me this cat. She said it’s a familiar and would help protect me. She said that if we stayed together we’d end up hurting people. She didn’t really want to send me away, but she had to. We were too linked. Our emotions only fueled the other one's.”  
  
“You said you ran away. That there were people chasing you because of your dad.”  
  
“There were. Apparently, there had been for all my life. I just didn’t realize it until I ran away from the boarding school that my mother sent me to. I came to Gotham, hoping to get lost in Crime Ally. No one likes this part of the town. I wasn’t here for even a day before I was abducted. I was sleeping in a sewer when I was taken by surprise. They drugged me. When they spoke it sounded like they were speaking through water. I...I...I woke up tied to a bed with a syringe sticking out of my arm. There were no windows in the room I was in, just a large metal door. It was like being locked inside a safe.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Larkin breathed. “That had to have been horrible for you. They didn’t...they didn’t violate you, did they?”  
  
When Lynx turned her eyes away from her cat, to lock them with her new roommate’s, there were tears in their green depths. Her voice cracked, getting caught in her throat, when she spoke, “I don’t know. I woke up several times and was drugged a lot. I don’t even know how long I was there for. It was obvious they had plans for me. They didn’t kill me. They either needed me as leverage or to turn a profit. At first I thought they were after my mom. She made a lot of enemies working for the Justice League and I thought they were trying to use me to get to her.”  
  
“Uh huh?” Larkin prompted.   
  
“My mom did eventually show up, but she had someone with her. A man in a red helmet. It was the first time I ever saw Red Hood and I was drugged out of my mind. I think I told him his helmet was pretty. Long story short, my mother cradled me to her as I watched him kill each and everyone one of my captors. Sometimes I can still hear the sound of his gun shots and the men screaming, ‘We’re sorry! We didn’t know she was yours!’. That’s how I learned the truth. That the Red Hood, the one and only, once dead and resurrected Jason Todd, is my dad. So, yeah. I know what you mean when you say people judge you based on your parents’ skill. Raven and Red Hood, and I’m just not enough like either of them.”   
  
“You're Red Hood’s daughter?”  
  
“I do believe that’s what I just said,” Lynx snickered. “You look shocked.”  
  
In fact, Larkin was beyond shocked. Lynx was roughly the same age as her. She had to be about nineteen. Which means that they would have been born around the same time. Her father should have known about her. Should have told Larkin about her. Unless, Red Hood hadn’t known about the girl’s existence and Raven hadn’t told him who the girl’s father was. Still, it was amazing that they never ran into each other as kids. With their parents running in the same social group and both being babysat by superheroes, she would have thought they’d at least see each other a few times. Which brought the question, did their parents want to keep them apart? Had they purposely not introduced them to the other?  
  
“If you’re Red Hood’s daughter,” Larkin began, “and I’m Nightwing’s, then that makes us...”  
  
“Cousins,” Lynx concluded. “Technically. I mean, by all legality, my dad’s still technically dead. Which kind of takes away the family connection.”  
  
“No,” Larkin shook her head. “My dad thought of Hood as his brother. He was always telling me stories about my Uncles Jason, Tim, and Damian. Legally dead or not, Jason Todd was still part of the bat family. He was still considered a brother by my dad and our uncles. I think, maybe, he was even still considered a son by Bruce Wayne. My dad said that the bat had adopted your dad to help him and that he still cared for him. He said it was the fact that your dad had no problem shedding blood that caused so much trouble between them. That and that they were both pretty pig-headed.”   
  
Lynx smirked. “Guess that means you consider me family then.”  
  
“I may not know you very well yet, but yeah. As far as I’m concerned, this new information just means that maybe I actually have a family member that won’t pass me off to another family. That’s something I’d like very much.”  
  
“I won’t sell you out. Your foster parents won’t find out from me that you’re here. I’d actually like to keep you around. I’ve never had the luxury of siblings or cousins. I think you’d make a good one. Besides, your dad never gave up on my dad. I think I owe it to him to not rat you out.”   
  
Both girls were quite for a bit. They sat there listening to the icy rain tap dance on the window. Someone yelled from down the hall and another person giggled incessantly. The sound of a car racing by outside contained gun shots that seemed wild and random. Larkin could picture someone driving around Crime Alley, shooting at the sky for seemingly no reason at all. The sounds were odd but not at all unpleasant.   
  
A long while passed like that. With Lynx petting her cat and Larkin with her head leaned back against the backrest of her chair. Both of their eyes shut and their ears filled with the sounds of the neighborhood at night. Then, finally, Lynx all but whispered. “You don’t have to tell me, but whatever happened to your mom?”  
  
Larkin opened her eyes to see her cousin staring back at her with curiosity.   
  
“I don’t mean to pry,” Lynx continued.   
  
“It’s alright,” Larkin breathed out. “I can’t answer your question though. The truth is, I never knew my mom. I don’t even know if my dad knew who my mom was. He never spoke of her. He only did when he told me that she’d left me on his doorstep one night. He’d come back from patrolling in Gotham with, I guess our grandfather, maybe our uncles, whoever he’d been with he’d found me wrapped in a blanket and stuffed in a picnic basket with a note saying I was his. There was no signature on the note and he had a DNA test done to prove to himself that I was actually his daughter. I only ever asked about her once. I never really needed her, I guess. My dad was both parents to me. He did everything.”  
  
“It must have hurt when you lost him.”  
  
“It did. I blamed myself for it for a while. His killers had come out of nowhere while we were on patrol. I think he knew them,” Larkin hesitated.  
  
“We don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to,” Lynx assured.   
  
“I’d really rather not,” Larkin admitted.   
  
Lynx hummed. “Then let’s just leave the conversation at this, shall we? It’s been a long night, anyway. I’m beat and we could both use some sleep. I think I’ll head to bed. You can sleep on the couch tonight, if you want. Since you don’t have a bed yet.”  
  
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”  
  
“And I see Sylas gave you some bedding,” Lynx nodded towards the blanket and pillow still in Larkin’s arms. “Good thing too. I don’t have any extra.”  
  
“Yeah, he’s a nice guy.”  
  
“Nice, but dangerous. Don’t get too attached to him, okay? As family,” Lynx all but grinned at calling Larkin her family, “I feel I should warn you. He’s a bit unstable. He’s a good guy but he’s got a crappy relationship record. He’s going to flirt with you, just please do yourself a favor and make sure you don’t become a fly for him to trap. Friends is as good of a relationship any girl can hope to have with him if they want to maintain knowing him.”   
  
“Thanks for the advice. Dating isn’t really something on my to-do list right now, though. So, rest assured, I won’t pursue anything other than friendship with him.”  
  
“Good. I’d hate to see you get hurt. And I’d hate to have to hurt him because he hurt you,” Lynx stood with her cat in her arms. “Good night, Larks.”   
  
“Good night, Lynx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this! I'm glad you're liking it!


	6. Gotham Then and Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Hood reflects on the past as he deals with the now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's some language in this chapter. Not a lot, but there's still some.

**Gotham City: 11 years ago**  
  
There was nothing more beautiful than Gotham at night. Even with the crime lords lurking about and the police scanners working overtime, the roof tops of Gotham were still. Larkin sat on the edge of the police roof. Her small legs dangled high above the ground below as the Bat signal behind her painted the sky. Even with the hood of her cape pulled up, she could hear her father speaking clearly behind her. He seemed agitated. His voice was rough, clipped, as he spoke with the commissioner and the Batman. Robin was quiet, unlike the older men, but she knew he was there. His tall frame was lurking in the shadows, watching as his father and brother argued.  
  
“Red Hood killed twelve men last night,” Batman’s deep voice was flat, as if he expected the others present to take his words as fact.  
  
“I know!” Larkin heard her father all but growl. “I know, but it wasn’t him. I cornered him in an ally. His eyes were Lazarus green. Lazarus green!”  
  
“Tt,” Robin chided from where he leaned against the open door that lead back into the police station. “Clearly the pit is no longer an excuse for Hood. It has been years since his resurrection and for the past few he has had complete control over himself.”  
  
“Last night he wasn’t in control at all!” Nightwing argued back. “Something must have happened to trigger the pit. He only ever gets this way anymore if he’s stressed about something.”   
  
“Fluke or not,” the Commissioner spoke up and Larkin didn’t have to turn around and see the old man’s face to know that his eyes were crinkled at the edge and his mouth turned down in a frown, “Hood has to be dealt with.”   
  
“He will be,” Batman promised. “Robin and I will handle him.”  
  
“What?” Nightwing began to protest.  
  
“You,” the older bat interrupted his first protégée, “will report back to the cave.”  
  
“But I can help…”  
  
“Your current views say otherwise,” Robin pushed away from the wall he was leaning against. “Batman is correct. You should take Screech back to the cave.”   
  
“The hell I will!” Larkin flinched as she heard her father’s boot make contact with the bat signal.  
  
“This is an order, Nightwing,” Batman informed.   
  
“I’m not your sidekick anymore, B,” the nickname was sneered. “I don’t take orders from you.”  
  
The commissioner sighed.   
  
“Screech and I will leave,” Nightwing retreated and one gloved hand came to rest on the shoulder of his daughter. Larkin looked up at her father’s touch. Her father’s blue eyes, like hers, were hidden behind the white lens of his mask, but she could still see the tight line of his mouth and the way he kept his shoulders squared. “But we won’t be going back to your cave.”  
  
“If you interfere, I will not hesitate to arrest you as well,” Batman threatened.   
  
“Hard to arrest someone who’s not at the scene of the crime. Search for Hood. I’ll stay out of your way, but don’t expect me to give you any information on where he is.”  
  
“I am already aware of his active safe houses. I do not need you to track him down.”  
  
Nightwing made an undignified noise and motioned for Larkin to stand. “We’ll see. Come on, Chickadee.”   
  
At the command from her father, Larkin rose. She mimicked her father’s gloved hands as he drew a grappling gun from his belt and aimed it what she assumed was the next building. There were gargoyles there and many shadows. She didn’t have to be told where to aim. In almost perfect synchronization, she launched herself into the air at the same time as her father and landed only a mere second behind him on the next roof top. They traveled from roof to roof in silence until they reached their apartment.   
  
Nightwing expertly disabled the security on their living room window before hoisting the contraption open and watching as Screech slipped inside. He threw one last look at the shadows around them before slipping inside himself.   
  
No sooner had the window been shut and the security re-enabled did the duo remove their masks. Larkin undid the clasp of her cape, letting it fall to the ground at her feet, where her father stared at it for a second. She thought he was going to reprimand her. Perhaps he’d even demand she pick it up and place it where it belonged, in the hidden compartment of her closet.  Surprisingly, he did neither. Instead he pulled out his black phone and said with a smile. “Go get ready for bed, Chickadee. I’ll be in there to read you a story in a minute. I just need to call Uncle Jason first.”  
  
Larkin gave an obedient nod and a large smile before darting off to ready herself for bed. She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and slipped on her favorite blue night gown before leaving the bathroom. As she was crossing the hall to her room, she heard her father say the words that would lead to him tearing himself away from his family, “They’re after you. You need to run.”   
  
**Gotham City: Present time**  
  
Jason Todd sat at the mostly bare desk of his home, or what was closest to a home for him. The apartment had little more to it than the furniture that’d come with it, his guns, and a few personal items. It was as plain and scarcely decorated as all of his safe houses. The only real thing that made him call that particular one his home was the four framed photos on his desk.   
He’d been working on cleaning his newest gun –an old pistol that he’d restored and slightly upgraded –when his eyes had drifted to those photos. He allowed his gaze to travel them briefly, like he always did when they stole his attention.  
  
There was the one photo of him and his daughter, at her birth. It was the only time he thought he’d ever hold her, for he and her mother had decided she’d be safer away from him. He’d never thought, at the time, that one day he’d be carrying her shaking form out of a compound of corpses who’d met their fate because they’d tried to defile and sell his little girl.  
  
Then there was the second picture; it was of him and his brothers. They’d been on a roof and Dick had declared a sibling selfie moment. Jason hadn’t been happy about being pulled into the photo by his older brother’s arm around his neck. Both he and Damian were glaring at the oldest. Tim was smirking, Dick was grinning, and the crook in the background was hanging from the flag pole atop the building.   
  
The third picture had also been taken by Dick. Another sibling selfie moment that happened when he’d run into Jason on patrol. Jason had his gun to Nightwing’s head in that one, and Nightwing was holding an escrima stick to Jason’s throat with one hand while taking the photo with his other.  
  
The last picture was taken at Dick’s daughter’s fourth birthday. They’d had the party at the manor and Larkin had made them all were pink party hats with shiny white pompoms on top of them. It was a family photo, of sorts. They were all in it...Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, and even Cass. Barbra Gordon had taken the photo for them, upon Dick’s request, and they’d all posed behind the little girl as she got ready to blow out her candles.  
  
Most of the Bats’ family photos, and all of the Bats’ selfie moments, were sparked by the ever energetic Dick Grayson...  
  
...Dick Grayson, who didn’t want to miss a single moment...  
   
...Dick Grayson, who was hardly ever without a smile...  
  
...Dick Grayson, who felt things so deeply that even the smallest amount of sadness was a tragedy...  
  
...Dick Grayson, who died nine years ago to the day, come Monday.  
  
Three days. In three days Jason would have been without his oldest brother for nine years. And Larkin would have been without her father for nine years. Just the thought of the raven haired girl, so happy in the last picture on his desk, almost drew a sigh from him. He hadn’t seen his niece since the funeral and even then he hadn’t spoken to her. He’d observed the funeral from afar, preferring to not interact with his remaining siblings and adopted father.  
  
If Alfred had been there then Jason might have gone and sat with the family. He may have even hung around to mourn a bit with them. But Alfred had passed away a few years prior and, with him gone, the manor wasn’t as welcoming. Tim tried to make Jason feel welcomed, but there would always be that unsolvable tension between Jason and Bruce. It was better for all of them if he just stayed away.   
  
Sometimes Jason regretted not staying and trying for custody of Dick’s daughter, but he knew then what he knew now. He wouldn’t have been the best place for her. He had little experience when it came to kids and he wouldn’t be able to offer her a normal life. He lived his life mostly in the shadows and that was no life for a child. Clark and Lois had been her best chance. Though Dick probably would have argued that she needed to stay with the family. Even Dick would have to admit, though, that Clark and Lois would raise Larkin well.  
  
“Raise her well and keep her safe,” Jason spoke to himself as he threw his feet atop the desk and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag before blowing a stream of smoke, adding to the smoky spiced aroma of his home. He needed to get his head out of the past. It was almost four in the morning and he’d gotten back from his meeting with Thomas Loan three hours before. No doubt Sylas would be coming by soon with a report on how his and Lynx’s job went.  
  
Jason had given them an easy assignment that night. At first he was going to send Scarecrow’s kid and his team of misfits, but Sylas and Lynx had been working hard lately and deserved an easy night. Plus, he liked them better. The Crane kid got on his nerves. He was always trying to psychoanalysis everyone. It got real annoying, real fast.   
  
Jason never cared much for Scarecrow or Poison Ivy, but Ivy’s kid was a hell of a lot more tolerable than Scarecrow’s. Plus, the kid was his daughter’s best friend and anyone who looked after Lynx as well as Sylas did was okay in Jason’s book. Just so long as the boy didn’t get any ideas and try for a romantic relationship. The kid might not be as toxic as his mother but he was still her kid and that was reason enough for Jason to not want Lynx to hook up with the boy. Who knew if the kid had acquired his mother’s poison filled lips.  
  
As if the mere thought of the boy had pulled his presence to Jason’s apartment, there was a loud knock on the door. It was a quick rasp of three strikes and Jason didn’t bother to get up from his chair. He leaned back further, taking another long drag from his cigarette, before calling out for the visitor to enter. He had no real reason to fear an intruder. If the person ended up being someone seeking to harm him, he had more than a few guns around him at the moment, not to mention the one still on his desk and the one hidden inside his jacket. The intruder would be dead before they knew what hit them.  
  
The door opened and in the dim light two serpentine eyes glowed as they peeked around the door. Jason smirked to himself at the knowledge that his mere presence could reduce the son of Ivy to a childlike state. The boy was always hesitant when he’d visit Jason. He was always quiet and reserved. He never spoke unless spoken to first.  
  
“You have the file?” Jason asked instead of greeting the boy.   
  
Sylas gave a curt nod and closed the door behind him. In his hands were a group of thick folders.   
  
“What the hell?” Jason’s eyes bulged. “What’d you do? Steal everything from the safe?”  
  
“That’s exactly what we did,” the crimson haired boy hesitantly stepped forward, handing the folders to the older man.  
  
“I asked for _one_ folder,” the dark haired man grumbled. He wasn’t entirely displeased, for he was sure the files would contain plenty of information he could use, but he wasn’t exactly happy either. When he gave a job, he expected it to be carried out exactly as he asked for it to. This particular mission was supposed be stealthy. Sylas and Lynx were supposed to get in, grab the folder, and leave undetected. Of course he knew, from his meeting with Thomas Loan, that they hadn’t been as quiet as they should have been. Loan had looked practically murderous when one of his lackeys informed him, during their meeting, that his compound was broken into and that there was a group of vigilantes that’d gotten away with some precious information.  
  
 _“If I find out that you were behind this,”_ Loan had sneered at Jason, _“you can guarantee that I’ll be taking my business elsewhere.”_  
    
“The person who cracked the safe was new. It was my fault, I should have told her _exactly_ what file we were looking for,” Sylas shifted his weight from one foot to the next.  
  
“New?” Jason growled, his eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell do you mean, new? Please tell me that you and Lynx didn’t take someone with you on this job. Someone who I didn’t approve.”  
  
“It was Lynx’s new roommate. She was supposed to be backup, nothing more.”  
  
Jason remained silent.  
  
“We didn’t see a need to tell you. Had we known who she was before we started the job, we would have told you. I only had suspicions, though. I had no proof that she was...her...until she told us.”  
  
“Who is she?” Jason gritted his teeth, fearing the worst.   
  
Sylas once again shifted his weight. “Her name is Larkin Grayson, she’s…”  
  
“Nightwing’s daughter,” Jason felt his heart clench. Larkin was in Gotham? She was supposed to be in Metropolis. What was she doing there? What was she doing with Sylas and Lynx? She shouldn’t be anywhere near Crime Ally.  
  
Sylas stood there awkwardly. His eyes were looking anywhere but at Jason, who was making a show of taking a drag from his cigarette. The Red Hood appeared to be calm; to be unconcerned about this new development, but inside he was panicking. His niece wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Gotham. Ever. Clark and Lois were supposed to keep her away from there. They were supposed to keep her away from the Bats.   
  
“Go,” Jason stated flatly, watching as Sylas nearly tripped over himself in his haste to leave the Red Hood’s apartment.  
  
“Well, shit,” Jason muttered to himself once the boy was gone. He ran a hand through his hair, his green-blue eyes shifting to look at the picture of little Larkin Grayson. “This is certainly an unexpected development.”   
  
Without even thinking, he was pulling out his phone and dialing a number he only kept in case of an emergency. On the third ring a tiered, groggy voice answered with a, “Hello, Clark Kent here.”  
  
“Clark,” Jason greeted. The silence on the other end of the line was enough to make him smirk.  
  
“...Jason?” Clark finally spoke after a few seconds. “Is something wrong? Is Bruce and the boys...”  
  
“They’re fine. I’m actually calling about a little bird who you were supposed to be keeping caged in Metropolis.”   
  
“She’s in Gotham?”  
  
“She’s in Gotham. Why’s she in Gotham, Kyptonian?”   
  
“That’s,” Clark sighed and Jason could picture him struggling to find the words he was looking for, “a long story.”


	7. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd pays a visit to Larkin. Despite Dick always telling Larkin that Jason is a good guy, Larkin has her doubts.

Morning came all too soon for Larkin, who awoke with a couch spring digging into her left side. Her lips twisted as she fought her mind’s instinct to awaken. She’d been dreaming of Metropolis and of spring. Of picnics and taunting Conner, Clark’s sort of son. She didn’t miss metropolis or her old high school. She didn’t miss the apartment neighbors asking what her plans were for college. She didn’t even miss seeing flashes of a red cape in the sky while helping Lois with daily errands.  
  
What she did miss was much more important. As much as she’d never felt like she’d belonged in Metropolis, Larkin hated that she was forced to leave it behind. Metropolis, for all she cared, could drop off the face of the planet, but Clark and Lois mattered. It hurt that she had to leave them. It hurt knowing that a few weeks ago they’d awoken to find a note on the kitchen table explaining that she had left. What hurt most though, was how much she missed smelling pancakes in the morning, and how much she missed picking on Connor and The Kent boys. She missed being tackled with hugs from Lois and Clark’s youngest son, and missed Connor getting agitated with her and flipping her over his shoulder before carrying her to a closet and locking her in it. She missed Clark’s kind smile and Lois’ understanding eyes; missed visiting the Daily Planet, picking the boys up from school, working at the gymnastics center, volunteering at the group home, listening to Clark tell stories about his adventures, and visiting the Kent farm in Smallville. Really, she just missed her family.  
  
She wouldn’t cry though. No, Larkin Grayson would not cry over her own actions. She’d made the choice to leave all on her own. She hadn’t consulted her foster parents. It’s not like they’d kicked her out. Still, she’d been forced away.  
  
Deep down, Larkin knew that if she’d stayed in Metropolis and had told her foster parents about the people chasing her that they’d protect her. She had no doubt that Clark wouldn’t rest until the threat was stopped. But said threat had already taken one father from her and she had no desire to lose another. She’d never forgive herself if the Kent’s were destroyed trying to protect her. So she’d ran. Ran all the way back to the god forsaken city of Gotham, where she woke up to the scent of stale water and burning incense. And was that smoke?  
  
Larkin wrinkled her nose. It didn’t smell like something was burning, more like someone was smoking. Did Lynx smoke? She was pretty sure she would have known already if the other girl did. After all, the apartment hadn’t smelled like cigarettes the day before.  
  
Slowly, hesitantly, Larkin slipped one cerulean eye open, keeping the other closed and pressed against the pillow beneath her. Along with the smoke and incense smell came a stronger earthy one. The blankets that Sylas had loaned her carried the aroma of moist earth; like stale water and decaying leaves. She found herself unconsciously burying her face into her pillow as she tried to peer around the room with one eye. All she saw, though, was the empty chair across from her and Lynx’s cat lounging peacefully on top of a pile of clothes.  
  
Still, something didn’t feel right. It wasn’t just the smell of cigarettes. Her skin tingled, a sensation she’d come to acquaint with being watched. Someone was watching her. Possibly Lynx. Possibly Sylas. She reasoned that her instincts hadn’t synced themselves with her new companion’s yet. They were probably still registering them as threats. She should just turn over and go back to sleep. The only way to train her instincts into accepting the two, anyway, was to ignore them. Yet, she couldn’t. She squirmed and huffed in annoyance as her body refused to fall back into a state of rest. Her muscles wanted to move, her mind was shouting at her to find out who was in the room with her, she was already thinking of all the possible exits and trying to recall where she’d dropped her escrima sticks the night before.  
  
“Freaking instincts,” Larkin grumbled as she gave up and sat up, pushing Sylas’s blanket off. As she rubbed at her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, she’d half expected to hear Lynx’s laugh or a sarcastic retort. Instead, she froze when a voice she didn’t recognize spoke from her left.  
  
“You should be thankful for your instincts. They’re all you’ve got to keep you alive in this shitty world,” the voice was casual. It wasn’t as deep as a bass or as dark as coffee, but it rang with male authority. The voice was more like a Carmel latte than a dark roasted espresso. “Then again, maybe you should curse them. I’ve been here for almost an hour and you’ve just now noticed? You’re either rusty or untrained. I’m guessing you’re a cocktail of both.”  
  
Larkin scoffed, her head shooting up from its bent position. She’d remembered that her escrima sticks were on the small counter that cut the living room off from the kitchen. If she had to fight this guy she’d have to get to them or go old school with some fists and feet.  
  
Larkin wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected the voice’s owner to look like, but she sure hadn’t expected it to come dressed in a leather jacket, worn jeans, and a red tee-shirt while leaning casually against the counter her escrima sticks were resting on.  
  
Scratch that. She hadn’t expected the voice’s owner to be casually leaning against the counter her escrima sticks _had_ been resting on. The intruder had one of them in his hands. He was toying with it, rolling it over and examining the ends. His hair, a tangle of black, fell partially in front of teal eyes.  
  
No, Larkin chided herself, not teal. The man’s eyes were blue tinged with an unearthly green. They weren’t a true teal color. Kind of like Lynx’s. Exactly like Lynx’s.  
  
Larkin felt her breath catch and her back stiffen. The man, in fact, was wearing the same smirk that her new roommate had worn for most of the day before. He chuckled at her and she felt the retort she’d been planning on shooting at him die on her tongue.  
  
She knew this man.  
  
She’d known him since she was a baby, though she hadn’t seen him in nine years. Not since the night before her father’s death.  
  
“Uncle Jason?” Larkin dared to ask. Her voice came out softer, more of a squeak, than she’d intended.  
  
“The one and only, kid,” Jason Todd lifted a cigarette to his lips. “God, you look like your old man. Sleep like him too,” Jason chuckled to himself. “Dickie always did like to take up the whole surface he was crashed on. Freaking limbs were everywhere. Made movie nights hell if he fell asleep next to you on the couch.”  
  
Larkin swallowed, not saying a word as she watched her uncle take another drag from his cigarette before flicking some of the ashes off into the bowl on the counter. Gingerly, he held the small white and yellow stick between two fingers as he hit a button at the end of Larkin’s escrima stick. The opposite end of the stick came to life with a crackle as a jolt of electricity shot from it. It was nothing that would do damage with the way Jason was holding it, but it had been made to act as a taser in combat.  
  
“Good to see you kept these. Your old man spent hours working on them. Besides you, they were his pride and joy. Even used the damned thing on me a few times,” Jason let out a rough breath. “Hurts like hell, but nothing you can’t recover from. Still, had he been in your place a few moments ago, he wouldn’t have just been lying in bed cursing his instincts. He would have had this baby shoved under his pillow and heard me the moment I entered the room. I would have had a nasty shock to my baby maker, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Larkin felt the corner of her eye twitch as she attempted to keep her features schooled. Jason Todd wasn’t only her uncle. He was a hero and a villain. A vigilante. He was her roomate’s father and her new boss. He also had the connections to kick her out of Gotham, and she wasn’t convinced that he wouldn’t do just that. After all, he hadn’t tried to stop her grandfather when he’d given her to the Kents. He hadn’t tried for custody or even stopped by for a visit since her father’s death. For all she knew, he could want her out of Gotham and out of both his and Lynx’s lives.  
  
“We need to work on those instincts of yours. Hone them,” Jason spoke up and his next words chased away some of Larkin’s fears, “Especially if you’re going to be teaming up with Lynx and Sylas. I could call in Damian or Tim to help with that, but they’d both report you to Bruce quicker than a zeta beam could have you at the watchtower. And, I’m not all knowing or anything, but my gut says that you’re probably not wanting a nice big ol’ bats family reunion.”  
  
Larkin managed to shake her head and get out a small, “No. Not really.”  
  
“Ah, she speaks!” Jason mocked with a smirk. “Stop looking like I’m going to report you, kid. I’ve got more important things to do than give the old bat a call.”  
  
“You’re...you’re not going to tell Bruce I’m here, then?” Larkin questioned, her voice shaky.  
  
“You’re voice is trembling,” Jason chided. “Shit, have you had any training since you left?”  
  
“No,” Larkin answered honestly. She fought the urge to pull her knees up and wrap her arms around them. “Not apart from the martial arts and gymnastic classes they let me attend.”  
  
Teal eyes narrowed and an escrima stick was placed by its twin on the counter. “That’s going to have to change. Timmy’s always been pretty trust worthy. Maybe I can pull some strings and get babybird to agree to train you without alerting B. He’d probably want a new list of my safe houses though. Charge me in information for your training. Probably ask me to go back on the grid.”  
  
“I can train myself,” Larkin defied, standing and folding her arms across her chest. “Once I find a decent gym.”  
  
An eyebrow was raised and the man scoffed. “You think so, kid? Well, we’ll see about that.”  
  
“Did you come here just to insult me or is there another reason for this oh so pleasant visit?” Larkin challenged.  
  
“Can’t an uncle stop by to see his niece?  
  
“It’s not like you care. You haven’t stopped by to see me in nine years.”  
  
Instantly, Jason’s smirk dropped. Larkin swore she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes before he schooled his features. “Yeah, well, circumstances demand I pay some sort of attention to you.”  
  
“I’m not a liability.”  
  
“Never said you were. Though I do have to wonder since you just took off from your foster parents like you did. You know, you tore poor old Clark and Lois up with that letter you left.”  
  
Larkin winced.  
  
“They’ve done nothing but help you and you turn around and treat them like shit,” Jason observed. “Clark told me everything. How you took off without a trace. How you left a note saying that you had to leave and that they shouldn’t come after you because they weren’t your real family. I’m curious, what kind of family were you hopping to find here in Gotham? You can’t get better than the Kents. They’re freaking perfect, and us bats? We’re dysfunctional, at best.”  
  
“I’m not looking for a family,” Larkin admitted and cursed herself for the tremor that was once again in her voice. Jason was right, she needed to get herself in check. How was she expecting to take on Gotham and, eventually, her father’s murderers if she couldn’t even keep her voice steady?  
“Then what are you looking for?”  
  
Larkin shook her head.  
  
“Fine then. Don’t tell me. But, it seems to me, you had a pretty good life going for you back in Metropolis. Don’t think for a second that I believe any word of the letter you left them. Unless you’ve drastically changed over the last nine years, you’ve still got Dickie’s heart beating in you and that heart would never let you not love the people who took you in. The people who feed and clothed you, made sure you got a good education, and loved you like their own.”  
  
A creak alerted both Jason and Larkin that Lynx was up. They remained silent as they listened to the floor boards protesting and her bedroom door eventually opening.  
  
Blurry eyed and dressed in an oversized shirt with a pair of well-worn sweat pants, Lynx stumbled into the room. She yawned, raising her arms above her head and arching her back, before offering a sleepy smile to her roommate and father.    
  
“Good morning,” she greeted them pleasantly.  
  
“Morning,” Larkin responded, her eyes flicking to Jason, “but I’m not sure how good it is yet.”  
  
Lynx chittered and went to make a pot of coffee.  
  
“What are you doing up?” Jason wondered aloud. “You usually sleep until noon.”  
  
Lynx raised a brow and Larkin couldn’t help but think how much that gesture resembled Jason. “So do you.”  
  
“Sylas told me about your new roommate when he dropped off the files,” Jason rolled his eyes. “When he told me her name I had to come see her for myself. I was almost sure he was lying.”  
  
“So she’s the worm that’s turned us both into early birds,” Lynx joked. “I wanted to show her around town today. Figured if she’s going to live here she should probably get to know the city. You know, get acquainted with the Bowery and Crime Alley, and all those other lovely corners of Gotham. I also thought we’d go out for ice cream. I’ve got a killer hankering for double chocolate fudge.”  
  
“The last time you went out for ice cream you almost started a gang war,” Jason chided.  
  
“Hey, not my fault! So, uncool, dad! I just happened to be at the wrong ice cream parlor at the wrong time,” she smirked. “Or the right one at the right time, if you consider that hottie’s number I got from the whole ordeal.”  
  
“What have I told you about getting numbers from guys in a gang fight?” Jason’s eyes went wide before he groaned. “Please tell me you didn’t call him.”  
  
“He was a little too chicken noodle like for my tastes,” Lynx smirked. “Besides, Sylas killed him.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“So, what do you think, Larks? Up for some ice scream and sightseeing?” Lynx turned her gaze from the cupboard she’d just gotten two mugs out of to her new roommate. “It could be some great cousin bonding time.”  
  
“It sounds great,” Larkin offered the other girl a small smile, to which Jason snorted.  
  
“Cousin? I thought you said you weren’t looking for a family,” Jason sneered.  
  
“She’s not,” Lynx interrupted before Larkin could retort. “She’s here for the same reason we all are. Surly you can tell, dad. She’s running from something. It doesn’t matter though, does it, Larks? You still found a family even if you weren’t looking for one. We’re cousins, and I for one am glad to have her here.”  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” Jason pushed away from the counter. “I’ve got shit to do. You two be careful and no gang wars.”  
  
“No promises,” Lynx called out before Jason roughly closed the door to her and Larkin’s apartment.  
  
“Your dad seems nice,” Larkin spoke up nearly as soon as Jason was gone and Lynx broke out in a loud laugh.  
  
“Yeah, sure. He’s about as sweet as a can of sardines. He means well, though. He's just not good with any sappy or sentimental stuff," Lynx left the side of the gurgling coffeepot to take a seat in her three-legged chair, across from the couch where Larkin had sunk back into. “What’d he say to you, anyway?”  
  
“Nothing,” Larkin shrugged.  
  
Lynx gave her a look of disbelief. “Jason Todd doesn’t show up to say nothing.”  
  
“Outside of insulting my skills, he wanted to know why I’m here.”  
  
“Did you tell him?”  
  
“I wouldn’t know how to explain it.”  
  
“You could try explaining it to me.”  
  
Larkin gave her cousin a small, sorrowful smile. “I might take you up on that offer sometime, but right now coffee and then that outing you promised sounds like heaven.”  
  
Lynx grinned. “Coffee’s the same crap from yesterday but I swear this city’s a jewel.”


	8. Ice Cream and Relics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lynx takes Larkin into the heart of Gotham and they end up discussing the nature of the Justice League.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooooo sorry this chapter has taken so long. I've been in the process of getting my life flipped upside down. It's all getting settled now, though. I've got my own place and time to write. Hopefully more chapters will follow rather quickly.

Gotham city was a jewel. Lynx wasn’t lying. The further they got away from Crime Alley -in the city bus they’d hopped on a couple blocks away from their apartment -the higher the buildings got. Sky scrapers threatened to break through the clouds and the streets got smoother. Potholes and cracks disappeared as people stopped lurking on street corners and started walking with their noses in the air. The bus still smelled rancid and the seats were the proud owners of some very questionable stains, but the scenery outside improved greatly. 

Larkin’s cerulean eyes twinkled with delight as they drove past the police station and the Gotham City News station. They drove further on until either side of the street was lined with what seemed like an endless number of shops. The bus let out a hiss as it slowed to a stop at a small glass building. A bright blue sign hung above the building, declaring it a bus stop, and one of the interior walls boasted the bus route and various places surrounding each stop on the route.

Lynx stood with a twirl, her purple skirt flaring out as she grabbed Larkin’s wrist and tugged her from the grime covered black seat. She waved at the bus driver as she hopped from the bus. Larkin barely caught herself from falling off the bus steps when Lynx jumped. The grip the other girl had on her wrist flung her forward and she scrambled for a moment to catch her footing before Lynx was once again dragging her away.

“Where are we going?” Larkin asked as Lynx pushed her way through the bustling crowd filling the sidewalks.

“To get a better perspective!”

“A better perspective of what?”

Lynx smirked and flung Larkin forward. The raven haired girl let out a surprised sound as she was met with a glossy wall.

“Hey, what gives?” Larkin was quick to turn on Lynx, only to find her cousin’s gaze turned skywards.

Lynx’s mouth hung open and one of her hands went to her leather jacket, grasping at whatever charm was hanging from the silver chain dangling beneath the jacket. Larkin found herself unconsciously following the purple haired girl’s gaze. What she found looming above them was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

Glossy black rose far above their heads; far above even the sky scrapers. Tinted windows lead all the way up to bright white letters.  Five large letters.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? They say you can see Wayne tower from every point in the city. They say that it’s a beacon of light. A symbol of a promise for a better future. If only they knew. I think if the media new the truth they wouldn’t call it a beacon of anything. They might even find it intrusive. It is a beacon though. But not of light and it’s not a promise of a better future. It’s a symbol of loyalty and a promise that in every way the Bat will strive to keep this city as safe as he possibly can, while keeping his morals. A big goal for a city so corrupted by crime, but a promise it needs anyway.”

Larkin had noticed the tower before. She’d seen it when she’d first arrived in Gotham and the Wayne name shone so bright that she could clearly see it from her and Lynx’s apartment at night. Still, she hadn’t actually realized how big the building was until now. Standing at its base and looking up, she felt small -almost insignificant – and while Lynx spoke of loyalty and promises she wondered if maybe those weren’t the right words. The dark building, standing so tall and proud…she felt like it was about to swallow her up. Like she was nothing when compared to it. That it would take a thousand of her to even come close to rising to its height. And she wondered if, perhaps, that’s how her father had felt standing in the shadow of the Bat. Maybe the tower didn’t represent loyalty or safety at all.  Maybe it represented the impossibly high standard of the Bat.

Larkin thought of saying as much to Lynx, but the look of complete awe that her cousin wore stopped her from doing so. Lynx seemed to buy into her own words. For being the daughter of a demoness and a crime lord, Larkin was starting to realize that Lynx had a pretty positive outlook.

“I know we’re the bad guys,” Lynx turned to Larkin with a face of seriousness, “but it’s kind of nice knowing that the Bat’s on the streets at night and in the office during the day, always trying to help those of us who fate threw under the bus. You know?”

Larkin shook her head. “No, I don’t know.”

There was a down turning of Lynx’s lips. “I’m not saying he’s the greatest hero of all time. I’m not excusing away all of the mistakes he made when it came to our parents. I’m just saying that I get why the city looks up to him. Why kids want to be Robin and adults watch with eager eyes when the Bat signal blazes in the sky. My mom always put the Justice League on a pedestal. Maybe that’s why I think this way. Maybe it’s because I don’t buy into my dad’s disdain for the Wayne’s, because without them he probably would have ended up having his body fished from the river.”

Larkin didn’t say anything as she studied her new roommate’s face. She hadn’t pegged the girl as being someone who would idolize the Batman, yet here they were at the foot of Wayne Tower, and she was looking up at the glossy black windows with awe. Then, as suddenly as Larkin realized that Lynx actually sort of envied the Bat, that envy was gone and replaced by a well-tuned mask of indifference.

“It doesn’t matter though,” Lynx frowned as a limo pulled up in front of the looming tower. “Because no matter how hard we try, no matter how hard we fight, and no matter what our parent’s adoption papers say, we’ll never be good enough for the big bad bat.”

A suit clad man was leaving the tower with a phone pressed to his ear and a scowl on his face. Sunglasses blocked the hue of his eyes from being seen, but his dark black hair was clean cut; shaved into a thin, well-kept, layer of glossy feathers. He looked no different from the rest of the business men wandering about and Larkin wouldn’t have spared him a second glance if it hadn’t been for the intensity of the gaze her cousin kept on the man.

A chauffeur hurried around the limo, but he wasn’t quite quick enough as the man opened the door himself. The chauffeur was speaking quickly and with minimal gestures, his face stoic. The man didn’t pay his employee any attention. Instead, right before he entered the limo he froze. His entire back, though rigid before, went as straight as a ruler as he pivoted rather gracefully to meet Lynx’s gaze. Larkin watched as a sneer appeared on the man’s face. He was still speaking into the phone.

“We should go,” Lynx gripped Larkin by the elbow.

“Why? Who is that man?” Larkin questioned but allowed herself to be guided away. She could feel the man’s unwavering gaze on them as they turned their backs and continued down the sidewalk.

“The prince of Gotham,” Lynx pushed between a couple of teenagers roughly as she dragged Larkin behind her. “Damian Wayne, heir of the Wayne Empire.”

Larkin couldn’t help but look over her shoulder. Even as they hurried away, and even as the man got smaller in the distance, she tried to comprehend Lynx’s words. The last time she’d seen Damian Wayne, she’d been but a child and he’d been wearing the crimson, green, and gold wings her father had been the origin of. Now he was a man, in a suit. No Kevlar, no boyish face, no complaints about having a physic’s final the next day after patrol…no, this Damian Wayne wasn’t the uncle she’d once bugged while he read Ulysses on the Wayne Manor couch. This Damian Wayne was the stoic, unemotional, hard as unyielding stone of a man that she’d stood beside at her father’s funeral. The one that had worn a black suit and hadn’t shed a tear as they lowered his brother’s casket into the ground.

Larkin swallowed around the lump that had formed in her throat. “Do you speak to him?”

“No. He’s an ass,” Lynx snorted. “I’ve ran into him a few times at my dad’s, but none of our conversations have ever gone past three sentences. Okay, well one did. The last one we had he said hello, I said hey, he said I was dressed like a tramp, and I drew a gun on him…then dad kicked me out and I heard an awful lot of yelling as I left.”

“I use to talk to him,” Larkin stated as Lynx let go of her elbow and they slowed down to a more leisurely pace. They could no longer see Damian in the distance and the sidewalks had gotten less crowded. “When I was little he’d babysit me from time to time. Never for more than a few hours, but I’d play with my toys while he read aloud from whatever novel he’d been reading at the time. He wasn’t the softest teddy bear, but my dad said he was a good guy, so I believed him.”

“Your dad seemed to have a very optimistic outlook on his family.”

“He did. No matter how many times they’d throw him under the bus he’d still look at them like they were the most precious thing in the word. Sometimes I wish I would have inherited that, other times I wonder how he could have been so blind.” 

Lynx hummed. “My dad would disagree with you. He’d say that your dad wasn’t blind, but that he chose to believe in the best of them even when all he saw was the worst. He said your dad saved him. Whatever that means.”

Larkin remained silent as she continued to follow Lynx. Neither girl said anything else until they reached a tiny little shop wedged between two large brick buildings. Lynx opened the glass door of the little shop and Larkin was instantly washed over by a cloud of cool air. A little brass bell above the door rang as they walked beneath it and the walls of the shop were decorated with graffiti art. Pink, blue, and green bubbles floated across the walls accompanied by the smiling faces of cartoonish children.

Standing at the end of a long, glass hooded counter was a familiar crimson haired young man. Lynx danced her way over to the young man and slung an arm around his shoulders. The high difference between the gesture almost comical and Larkin couldn’t help but fight back a snicker.

The young man glanced down at Lynx with a big brotherly look and then his aloe eyes were looking over her purple tangles and at Larkin. His smile turned from soft to downright predatory and it made the raven haired girl take a step back. He gave a slightly airy laugh as he rolled his head back to look at the cashier, who was handing him change and a glob of green ice cream atop a waffle cone. He stuffed the change into a jean pocket beneath the long soiled apron he wore. All sorts of tools were sticking out of the apron’s own pockets. Small hoes, rakes, shovels, and pliers peeked out from the apron and a pair of dirty gloves was hanging precarious out of the right back pocket of the man’s jeans.

Larkin allowed herself to fully examine the young man while he thanked the cashier. She noted his mud caked sneakers and the thin scratches on his hands. His yellow shirt had dark brown stains on the sleeves and sides, despite the apron’s covering and a gold bandanna was pushed up beneath the young man’s crimson hair and over his forehead. The hair, itself, was damp and there was a light sheen on the man’s neck. When Larkin breathed she could smell the mixture of pesticides and fertilizer that clung to the man’s skin.

“My dad called you, didn’t he?” Lynx was speaking to her longtime friend.

“I haven’t heard from him,” Sylas responded, his gaze moving briefly to look at the pink bubble to his left. “I’m on break and thought mint ice cream sounded good. Running into you two is just a perk.”

“I didn’t think vegans could eat ice cream,” Larkin commented and immediately wanted to slap herself. She wanted to be friends with Sylas and she doubted that pointing out his life style choices was a good way of doing so.

The crimson haired boy drew his head back in a quick, fluid motion that reminded Larkin of a snake readying to strike. However, there was no anger or ill intent visible within his eyes. Instead, his aloe orbs shone with amusement and the corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile.

“How observant,” Sylas drew out the ‘s’ slightly longer than needed, which resulted in an odd hiss like purring of his last word. “And accurate. Most people mistakenly assume I’m a vegetarian. No, I don’t consume any animal byproduct. Which is why this,” Sylas held up his mint ice cream for Larkin to see, “is made from coconut milk. This is one of the few ice cream parlors in town that sells vegan ice cream and it, by far, has a more pleasant atmosphere than all the rest.”

Color seeped into Larkin’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“For what?” the snake boy asked as his brows knit together.

“I have a habit of pointing out things I probably shouldn’t,” Larkin paused. “I also have a habit of creating awkward situations.”

Sylas laughed. “You are so weird, Larks, but that’s why you’re going to fit perfectly. And, for the record, and I’m only saying this because you seem to think you screwed up by pointing out that I don’t eat dairy, I like that you know so much about the vegan life style. Not many people would question what kind of ice cream I’m eating. It’s refreshing.”

Blue eyes blinked. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, he’s serious,” Lynx chimed in. “One of Sy’s biggest pet peeves is when people mistakenly refer to him as vegetarian. He’s completely anti-dairy, anti-eggs, anti-meat, and anti-byproducts-of-any-animal.”

“It’s one of my charms,” Sylas winked at Larkin before sliding into a nearby booth. “If you two aren’t planning on starting a gang war today then why don’t you order yourself some cream and come help me waste away my break.”

Lynx rolled her eyes. “That was one time. One time! Gosh, when are you and my dad going to let it go?”

“Never,” Sylas answered shortly.

Lynx stuck her tongue out at the young man before turning to her roommate. “I’m buying, obviously. What kind of ice cream do you want?”

“Um…”Larkin glanced at the different flavors housed in the counter. “Surprise me?”

Lynx shrugged. “Okay.”

Larkin slid into the seat across from Sylas as Lynx ordered two waffle cones filled with double chocolate fudge ice cream. The purple haired girl was chatting easily with the cashier as Larkin stared down at her hands, and the table, and out the window. She wanted to talk to Sylas, but she wasn’t sure where to start and she feared she was just creating an awkward situation that would forever taint his point of view of her.

“Hey,” warm tan hands clamped over hers and Larkin found herself staring at them for a moment in shock before raising her gaze to meet his. “What have you and Lynx been doing today that has you so nervous?”

“I’m not nervous,” Larkin blurted out.

Sylas raised an eyebrow. “You’re acting like you’re waiting for someone to catch you in a lie.”

A rough sigh was dragged from the girl’s lips. “I’m not nervous. I’m out of my comfort zone. This whole place is so different than Metropolis. It’s even different than my memories of it. I don’t really feel like I know this city and when Lynx took me to Wayne Tower I felt small…like maybe coming here was a bad idea.”

“It’s only your second day with us. Don’t go judging Gotham just yet. As for the tower, Lynx has a hero complex. She thinks the Bat’s a good guy, that the Joker’s the bad guy, and that we’re the civilians caught in the middle of their game.”

“The Joker’s dead.”

“Yeah, but…” Sylas paused to lick at his ice cream. “What I’m saying is that Lynx believes in the heroes and she believes that they’d save us if they could. It doesn’t matter that she’s never been to the Batcave or never had an actual dinner with her –your –family. She still thinks that in their own messed up way they love her.”

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Sylas scoffed. “I think we’re relics. I think they can never truly love us the way they may want, and the way Lynx wants them to, because we remind them of better times. Of the time before they creaked and when a crowbar felt feather light in their hands. We’re the remnants of the glory days. It’s our destiny to be hated and hunted.”

Larkin gave a short laugh of her own. “Wow. I’ve never met anyone else that thought that way. I use to tell my foster parents that I felt like a souvenir. You know? Like I was a snow globe that the Bat’s picked up on their way through time and couldn’t bear to actually completely get rid of me because of the memories I represent. Still, they also couldn’t bear to see me every day because of the same reason. So they did the only thing they could think of. They pawned me off to a close friend where I’d be in arms reach if, for whatever reason, they someday wanted their little snow globe back.”

Sylas grinned. “Larks, you and I are going to be great friends. Maybe, if we’re lucky, in two or three generations the world will have forgotten all about the heroes of today and will remember us relics instead.”

Lynx haphazardly threw herself into the booth her friends were sharing. She wore a wide grin as she handed a waffle cone full of chocolate fudge ice cream to her roommate. "Allow me to present to you the best goddamn ice cream in all of Gotham city." 

A deep, but airy chuckle escaped Sylas as Larkin carefully took her ice cream from Lynx. 

"She ain't kidding," the snake boy backed up his long time friend. "Bob's ice cream beats everyone's." 

"We'll have to introduce you to Bob someday," Lynx commented. "He's a bit of a kook but who isn't in this city?"

Larkin grinned. "If he's anything like you two then I'm sure I'll like him."

"He's got a good heart," Sylas bit into his waffle cone. "He's an ex mob boss. He made a deal with Red Hood to start over again. He got his ice cream shop, Hood got his gang, and he pretty much stays to his self. With the exception of us. He's under the protection of Hood, but he hasn't lost his touch with a gun and he'd have any of our backs if we needed it."

"He's the reason Sylas has his day job," Lynx added. 

"When he found out who's kid I was there was no way he was going to waste the opportunity of hooking me up with an old pal of his at the botanical gardens. A few words here, a demonstration of my...uh...talents...and boom chicka bang, baby. Was hired on at the botanical gardens. He even offered to help Lynx get into the Glacier Lounge with her magic acts."

"I turned him down," Lynx stated bluntly, but with lightheartedness. "I'm not a show pony. I don't preform." 

"I bet you do, though," Sylas smirked as his new neighbor. "All that circus blood in you probably makes you a born entertainer." 

Larkin blushed. "I wouldn't know about entertaining but I'm pretty good on the beams and bars."

"Ever compete?" 

"Yeah, quite a bit. I use to work at a gym in Metropolis and they'd let me use their equipment to train in my spare time. They even sponsored me for competitions." 

"You know, I think there's a gym hiring near our building," Sylas mused. "It's a tough gig being both a vigilante by night and a civilian by day but, if you're interested, I could swing by the place on my way home tonight and see if they're still hiring." 

Lynx scrunched up her face. "Or she could just worry about adjusting to life in Gotham before she goes and gets herself a real job." 

Sylas rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Thanks for the offer, Sylas," Larkin responded genuinely, "but I'm kind of just interested in staying invisible right now and my skills don't exactly let me blend in."

"I understand," Sylas tilted his head to glance at the cracked watch on his left wrist. "This chat has been nice, girls, but I've got to get back. I'll see you two tonight." 

 


	9. I am Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylas and Larkin grow closer over Chili and Cinnamon rolls.

The cold December rain that Larkin had arrived to in Gotham was slowly freezing over. The sky spit ice at her as she shuffled her way down the cracked street her apartment building sat on. The carcass of the old store that sat across from the building looked even more ominous then usual with ice collecting on what little was left of its sign. The cerulean eyed girl tried to fold into herself to maintain what little warmth her jacket was providing her. She had no winter weather wear. No hat, scarves, or gloves to help keep her warm. All she had was her old leather jacket, which was running thin in a few places and whose lining had given out the Christmas before last. She hadn’t been able to part with the jacket, however, because she’d found it in the box of her father’s things that the Kents had kept.

It was a women’s black, leather jacket, with no identifiable branding. There was an odd little pocket inside and some little loops, which looked suspiciously like they were supposed to hold something. Larkin had asked her foster parents if they’d known where the jacket came from.

Lois had said that she’d never seen the jacket before and that perhaps it’d been mistakenly placed in her father’s things.

“It could have belonged to one of your aunts,” Lois had mused as she’d peeled apples in an attempt to copy Clark’s mother’s homemade pie recipe. “Cassandra, or Stephanie, maybe. Maybe even Barbara. I wonder if they’d left it in there by accident when cleaning out your old home.”

Larkin had no way of contacting her old family or the network of close family friends the Bat kept, so she’d decided that she’d keep the jacket no mater whose it was. She wondered a few times since then if the jacket had been part of a vigilante uniform. It’d explain the loops and holster looking pocket if it did. It didn’t, however, explain why her father had it. After all, what would Richard Grayson need with a women’s jacket?

Clark had been a little more helpful than Lois had been, saying that he thought he remembered Dick saying something about Larkin being wrapped in the jacket when she was left on his doorstep. Of course, Larkin argued back saying that she’d been left in a picnic basket, to which Clark chuckled and said, “You think your mom would have left you without something to act like a blanket? It was December when your dad found you, Larkie. I’m pretty sure your mom –whoever she is –wouldn’t have left her basically newborn daughter without some kind of protection in the dead of winter.”

Since then, Larkin had secretly hoped that Clark was right. Because, if Clark was right then the jacket had most likely belonged to her mom and having something that use to be her mom’s was something Larkin desired very much.

“Fuck,” Lynx cursed from her cousin’s side, shaking Larkin out of her thoughts.

The demoness was slouched, huddling inside of her own jacket and shivering. She, like Larkin, was carrying a thin plastic bag from the shady looking grocery store a few blocks away. They’d hadn’t planned to do their grocery shopping that day but Sylas had come home early from his job at the botanical gardens, saying that he’d heard on a news report that there was a chance of a snow storm.

“They’re talking ice on the powerlines, black outs, and snow,” Sylas had stated. “Most of Gotham has already started to shut down.”

Larkin and Lynx had rushed to the store to get some cheap, canned and boxed food in case the storm left them stranded in their apartment for the next few days.

“Winters are harsh here,” Lynx had informed Larkin. Now, Larkin was starting to believe her. In the half an hour it’d taken them to get their groceries the rate of falling ice had intensified by at least 50%. Her fingers had gone numb around the plastic handle she clutched in them and her nose might as well been nonexistent for she could no longer tell if it was attached to her face.

“When we get inside, I’m going to bum some hot coco off Sylas,” Lynx’s teeth rattled as she spoke. “It’s the frigging organic crap he drinks, but it’d be a hell of a lot better than our crappy coffee.”

Larkin nodded her approval. “You should invite him over too. I’ll make some cinnamon rolls and chili for us.”

Tiny creases formed on the bridge of Lynx’s nose and a particularly strong gust of frozen wind whipped purple strands across her face. “Cinnamon rolls with Chili? That’s a different combination.”

“It’s a Midwest thing,” Larkin held open their apartment building’s door for her roommate. “Clark said his mom use to make it for their family in the winter. Honestly, the first time I had it I thought it sounded horrible but the sweet with the spicy…It’s a food combination straight from heaven.”

“What are you going to do about Sylas? You can’t cook cinnamon rolls and chili for a vegan. That, like, goes against all his principals.”

The young Grayson smirked, her eyes crinkling slightly around the corners. “You underestimate my cooking skills.”

Lynx’s own smirk made its way to her face and she reached out, muttered a series of words that lead to the door of their apartment flying open. Larkin knew the girl had a key, she’d even given Larkin the duplicate one, but still Lynx insisted on opening their door with magic.

“Here,” Lynx passed Larkin the plastic bag she was carrying. “Take that inside. I’ll go talk to Sy.”

The raven haired girl didn’t protest as she took the second bag and entered her apartment. Lynx’s cat, Chloe, stood from her spot on the back of the old couch when Larkin entered. The slender feline arched her back, paws stretched outward, and sharp fangs showing.

“Hey, Chloe,” Larkin greeted, setting the bags down on the only clean spot on the countertop. “Miss us?”

The can vibrated, her green-gold eyes reflecting the light of the nearby lamp.  

“Lynx picked you up some canned tuna,” Larkin continued to talk to the cat as she shed her jacket and hung it on one of the three knives sticking out of the wall to the left of the door.

Chloe began to purr even louder and gingerly worked her way across the cluttered floor of the girls’ apartment. She managed to get herself between Larkin’s legs as the youngest girl readied to cook. Her slender, black body weaved itself around the girl’s legs, creating a figure eight pattern as she rubbed up against the girl’s jeans.

“Chloe,” Larkin chastised, “don’t think if you’re all sweet on me I’ll give you the tuna. You have to wait for Lynx.”

Chloe mewed in protest and sat back to stare up at Larkin with big blinking eyes.

“Yes, you’re cute, but the answer’s still no.”

“Meow, ksss,” Chloe darted away and back to her spot atop the couch, her eyes now narrowed as she watched Larkin continue to cook. Larkin could practically hear the cat mentally cursing her. She wondered just how much power a familiar had and if the creature really would curse her for denying it tuna.  

“I’d offer to drop some food on the floor for you but I doubt you’d like it,” Larkin stated.

“Ksss,” the cat hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, take it up with Lynx.”

“Is Chloe bugging you for food again?” Lynx asked as she sauntered in through the still open door, hot coco packets in hand and Sylas on her heels. She turned a wicked smirk on her familiar before stating, “Prissy princess doesn’t need anything right now. Queen Chloe can wait a little longer for her treat.”

“Ksss, meow,” Chloe mewed while blinking at her owner.

Lynx raised a hand and shook her head. “Oh no, those puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work on me. How many times do I have to tell you? You’re a cat, not a dog. Get your own gig!”

“Ksss!” Chloe leapt from the couch and dashed down the hall way, heading towards Lynx’s room where, if her mood was anything to judge by, she’d decide that Lynx’s bed made a better litter box than the tray in the bathroom.

“I think you pissed off your demon,” Sylas remarked.

“She’ll get over it.” There was a loud meowing and Lynx almost growled. “And I’ll bet that’s her telling me that she just shit on my bed.”

Sylas gave a breathy laugh as Lynx stormed off down the hall, yelling in a tongue not spoken by humans. He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching as Larkin poured cans of beans and tomatoes into a pot.

“Lynx says you’re making chili and cinnamon rolls,” Sylas spoke. “Great idea for this cold day. If I can…” he hesitated and Larkin noted how he shifted his weight and looked down at his fingertips, which appeared to be stained green. “Is it vegan?”

“It will be. You don’t think I’d feed you something that wasn’t, would you?”

Sylas smiled, his pointed teeth showing and his aloe green eyes lighting up. “You’re too conscientious for that. Mind if I help?”

“Sure. I’m almost done adding everything into the chili and then I’ll start on the cinnamon rolls. Would you like to get the butter out of the fridge? Careful though, Lynx doesn’t know its vegan. So don’t tell her.”

“How’d you manage to get Lynx Todd to buy vegan butter?” Sylas asked as he went to do as Larkin requested.

“Easy, she asked me to get butter and I did,” Larkin grinned. “It’s her own fault for not specifying what type of butter she wanted.”

The ginger chuckled. “There’ll be hell if she finds out. Even more hell if she doesn’t find out until after she’s decided it’s the best butter she’s ever had.”

“Who says that’s not in the plan?” Larkin giggled. “You know, for all the crap she gives you about your lifestyle choice, I don’t think she’s actually all that against it. When I suggested she invite you over tonight she asked if you could eat the food. She does care. A little.”

“I know she does. I’ve never questioned her loyalty or mindfulness of me. The banter and insults are just part of our relationship. It’s actually the foundation our entire friendship is built on.”

“Really?”

Sylas nodded. “Lynx and I have never had a conventional friendship. We went from enemies to friends in 0.7 seconds and it all started because I called her a shallow emo Barbie doll who used Daddy’s name to escape the golden, gated life of being a hero’s legacy.”

“Ouch.”

“Eh. She called me a plant murderer and went off on how if I loved plants so much I should be more concerned about their wellbeing than whether or not a cow spent it’s life grazing in a field or bathing in barbeque sauce on a plate.”

Larkin snickered and began to make the dough for her cinnamon rolls as the chili cooked on the stove. “That wasn’t the first things you said to each other, was it?”

“No,” Sylas moved a collection of coffee cups into the sink and hopped up to sit on the counter where they’d previously been. “The first time I saw her, Lynx was barely conscious. Her hair was matted and she had eyeshadow streaking her face. She’d been a real train wreck. Her clothes were ripped, her lip bloodied and bruised. One of her arms was broken and tied to her chest by a strip of red cloth, which I’m sure came from Hood’s shirt. Hood was carrying her. She looked fragile. Ironically, she reminded me of a broken bird.”

“Was that right after Hood rescued her form the men that’d kidnapped her?”

“She told you about that?”

Larkin nodded.

“Yeah, it was right after that. Hood came back here, Lynx in his arms, and with Raven following him. He’d been pissed. He was shaking as he stormed through my apartment door and placed Lynx on my couch. He and Raven had a heated discussion for a while, while I treated Lynx. I used a lot of natural medicines, herbs and other remedies…used some whiskey too. Whiskey makes a good antiseptic. That’s something you should know, in our line of work.”

“Any alcohol really,” Larkin agreed. “Though I have heard that Whiskey is the best to use.”

“Best to give someone to chug if you’re about to pull a bullet from them too,” Sylas remarked. “In fact, Lynx chugged almost a whole bottle when we met. She woke up when I was cleaning her wounds and I basically said she looked like shit. I was meaning to tell her that we’d fix that after I got her cleaned up, but she’d interrupted me. I kid you not, with split lip and bruised up face, that little she-devil glared at me so hard that I froze right on the spot. To this day I swear her eyes were made of teal flames as she looked me dead in the eyes and told me to go fuck myself and to pass her the whiskey.”

Larkin burst out in laughter. “And you were still friends after that?”

Sylas grinned and hopped off of the counter. He came up behind Larkin, placing his hands in the bowl of dough she was working with. As he begun to help her knead the dough he said, “As soon as she spoke I knew I was in for a ride. Hood placed her under my protection for a while and we were at each other’s throats for nearly a month and a half. She threatened to kill me twice and magically locked me out of my apartment five times. I may or may not of strung her up with some ivy vines and left her hanging from the ceiling for a few hours. After she got her own place, though, we were attached at the hip. Truth is, we became friends quickly and without either of us really noticing. Haven’t you ever had a friend like that? Where the relationship just sort of happened?”

Larkin stopped kneading the dough. She exhaled slowly. “Not really. I’ve never had friends before.”

“Never?” Sylas leaned over her shoulder so he could look at her face slightly.

Larkin gave a sharp nod.

“Forgive me, but I find that hard to believe. You’re a beautiful girl and your nature is…spirited…how could someone like you not have any friends?”

Larkin shrugged. She stared down at her dough covered hands and begun to play with the dough stuck to them. “I guess I had a few friends in elementary school, but I never saw them outside of school. I never had tea parties or sleepovers like the other girls in my classes. Not for lack of effort on my father’s part. Dad tried his best. He encouraged playdates and tried to talk me into inviting the other girls to my birthday parties, but I didn’t like them. They were mean. They use to say things about me, and my dad, and my mom.”

“What about in high school?” Sylas’ voice was soft. He swallowed as he attempted to steel himself for the answer he had a feeling was coming. He didn’t like the idea of Larkin never having friends before. No one should ever be alone like that. Surly there’d been someone; one friend, a close acquaintance, or maybe a boyfriend? “Didn’t you date at all?”

Larkin shook her head and reached up to itch at her forehead, which ended up getting a bit of dough into her pixie cut hair. “In high school the best I got were acquaintances. There was one girl on my gymnastics team that I got along with well. We never met up outside of practice. She seemed nice, though…too nice. Her life was perfect. She had the perfect family, and the perfect house, and she’d end up going to the perfect college and not having to worry about how to pay tuition. Our acquaintanceship wouldn’t have lasted a day if she’d seen the mess that is my life.”

“Your life’s not that bad,” Sylas gently turned Larkin around in his arms. He slid his hands up her arms, from her wrists to her shoulders, before saying, “Besides, you have two friends now. Lynx and I have your back and we don’t care about anything that’s happened to you before now. Broken family or not, foster family or not, trust issues or not, we accept you for who you are. These last two weeks of having you around have been great. More than great.” he moved his hands up to gently cradle her face. He tilted her face so she was looking up at him, his bright aloe eyes looked down into her deep cerulean ones. “And I can’t wait to spend many more weeks with you.”

Larkin felt lightheaded as he leaned forward. She felt intoxicated by his scent. The strong aroma of fertilizer, pesticides, and moist earth wasn’t as overpowering as she would have thought it’d be with Sylas standing that close to her. On the contrary, it was calming and she realized that mixed in with the harsh spicy dirt smell of pesticides and fertilizer was the much more subtle, softer scent of roses.

Sylas’s lips, plump and smooth, brushed hers in a feather light touch. He applied no pressure. He merely rubbed his mouth across hers a few times before resting his forehead against hers.

“You are intoxicating,” he spoke with closed eyes. “If Lynx hadn’t made me promise to remain friends only with you I would kiss you right now.”

Larkin closed her own eyes, sighing. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Sylas. You’re amazing and alluring but I can’t get involved with anyone. Like you said, I have trust issues. Plus, Lynx sort of made me promise the same thing she made you.”

Sylas laughed that soft, breathy laughter of his and Larkin felt his breath ghost across her mouth.

Slowly, Sylas pulled back and reluctantly let his hands fall from her face. “It’s all for the better. I shouldn't kiss you anyway. Even if we both wanted it.”

“Why’s that?” Larkin was ashamed to admit that her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.

“Haven’t you heard the tale about my mother’s transformation? They replaced her blood with aloe, her skin with chlorophyll, and filled her lips with venom,” Sylas quoted an old tale about how Poison Ivy was created. “I am poisonous. One kiss from me and you could end up dead.”

“Must make dating really hard for you,” Larkin attempted to joke.

“I’ve found ways around it; a thin layer of wax on the lips, an antidote that I can deliver if I forget to be careful, and there’s an anti-toxin. I haven’t ever cared about someone enough yet to give them the permeant cure, but I’ve learned that short exposure doesn’t harm anyone. I could kiss you, but I couldn’t kiss you for more than a few seconds and absolutely no longer than a minute.”

“That stupid cat!” Lynx’s sudden voice created greater distance between Sylas and Larkin. At the sound of it Sylas instantly moved to lean against the counter and Larkin scooted a little bit further away from him. Lynx came to stop, with hands on her hips, right in front of the duo. “You know what that feline fatale did?”

“She shit on your bed?” Sylas guessed.

“She shit on my bed!” Lynx exclaimed. “Just because she can’t have a snack. She’s such a drama queen!”

Sylas snickered and Larkin grinned.

“I wonder where she gets it from,” Sylas remarked.

“Don’t you start,” Lynx pointed one purple painted finger at him. “I’ll conjure up an army of locusts and set them loose on your beloved plants.”

“Please don’t,” Sylas groaned. “You know that it physically caused me pain when my plants are harmed.”

“That’s the whole point, veggie boy,” Lynx informed with a vicious smirk.

“You two,” Larkin mused, watching them from her spot against the counter top. Sylas was right, her life may have not been the best but it certainly wasn’t the worst.


	10. A Puzzling case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Hood sends the team a new job and Larkin can't seem to shake the nightmares from her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this chapter. I din't proof read it. I skimmed it, but I didn't go through a read it over and over again like I normally would. So if there are any drastic spelling or grammar errors I'm really sorry. Let me know and I'll fix them when I can.

 

It’d taken years for the nightmares to decrease and even longer for Larkin to get use to them haunting her throughout the day. Sometimes it was easier to shake them off then other times. Around holidays, birthdays, and his death date, it was particularly hard. That’s why she hated winter.

Most people hated the coldest months because of petty things. Ice, snow, the rise in heating bills…she hated winter because Christmas was her father’s favorite holiday and because a week before it was when he took his last breath.

She liked to pretend that she’d been too young to remember the details of his death, or that her child mind had repressed them to save her own sanity. She supposed the second was probably somewhat true, for over the years her memory of that night had dulled. She was sure that at one time she’d known the face of her father’s murderer. Now all she knew was a jumble of feelings and flashes of faded images.

One thing Larkin knew for sure was that it had been cold on the night of her father’s death. They’d been out on patrol and had run into Red Robin…she thinks it’d been Red Robin…they’d been on a pointed roof with a bell chiming loudly nearby. A cape of red feathers spread like a wing as a frozen breeze ruffled them. The cape’s owner had worn a black cowl that’d covered the majority of his face. His mouth, a pair of lips that’d been thinned into a hardened line above his somewhat round chin, was the only real part of his face that she remembered seeing.

He hadn’t been happy. She couldn’t remember the words he and her father had shared, but she could recall the clipped tone in which they’d spoken. Their words had been tight, short, and nearly as cold as the large snowflakes falling into her dark hair.

She’d worn her hair long back then and one of her few clear memories from that night was of the wind whipping the inky strands into her face.

“You should tie your hair back,” she was pretty sure her father had instructed.

Maybe if she’d listened she would have seen the shadows that’s been lurking above them. Her father and uncle hadn’t seen them either. None of them had. Not until the half concealed moon was blocked out by them.

“Larkin! Run!”

Her father never called her by her given name on patrol. It was one of the Bat’s rules. When masks were on, no names were used outside of the ones of their vigilante identities. However, that night, Nightwing had broken that rule.

“Larkin! Run!”

That was the last clear thing she could remember her father saying.

She must have ran, though she didn’t remember doing so, for her next memory had her in an alley. She was trapped with brick walls on three sides of her and a tall shadow in front of her. His long blade had been red and dripping at his side.

“Hush, little Ravager,” the tall shadow’s voice was dark and deep. Not at all comforting like coffee on a cold day. More unsettling like the complete darkness of a grave. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve come to take you home.”

The next time she remembered seeing her father he’d been a crumpled mess on the ground. A man in a red helmet stood growling over him; waving his two handguns around without a thought of safety. She’d been wrapped in red feathers and a katana glistened as it was tossed near her feet. There’d been no sign of the tall shadow, though a green mask scrunched above a snarling mouth as white lenses scanned the rubble around them for the attacker.

“He’s dead. That son of a bitch killed him!” the man in the red helmet growled. “When I get my hands on him, I’ll…”

“Hood! Not in front of Larks!” the warm red feathers demanded her protection. “She’s been through enough. We need to get her home.”

“Father is on his way to help with Grayson. He’s lost…” the green masked man scowled, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “…Called her Ravager. He said he’d come to take her home.”

The red feathers shifted, holding her tighter. “Just as Nightwing feared. B knows?”

The green mask nodded. “He’s already developing a plan for her safety.”

The rest of the week that followed Larkin remembered as clearly as a grieving child could. She hadn’t been allowed to return to the apartment her father kept. Instead, she’d spent the next week feeling small in her father’s oversized bed at the manor.

There’d been two funerals. A public one that consisted of an urn filled with ash from the Bat family’s fireplace and a couple of nice speeches by the commissioner and the mayor. And as Gotham mourned the loss of their blue and black hero, Bruce spun a tail of a horrible ski accident that his first ward wouldn’t return from.

Nightwing’s funeral was on Monday. Richard Grayson’s funeral was on Wednesday. By Friday Larkin was packed and on her way to Metropolis.

“You’re going to be okay, Larkie,” Clark and Lois had soother her for weeks…months…. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

Larkin shivered, tugging the blanket around her shoulders tighter. The blanket was red. Just like the feathers. Warm, like them too, with her eyes closed her mind almost thought she was back there, huddled within the confines of the feathers and staring at the broken body of her father.

She shook her head and opened her eyes. She didn’t even remember closing them. An empty bowl of chili and a half eaten cinnamon roll sat on the floor, near her sock clad foot that hung off the couch. Her back was pressed against something even warmer than the blanket and there was a weight around her waist.

“Hey, Larks. Good nap?” Sylas’ voice spoke from behind her.

Sylas…it was Sylas she was leaning against. Sylas, who had his arm wrapped around her waist. She remembered now. Lynx and Sylas had been trying to teach her a complex card game that required tiny figurines and a book made to look like an ancient tome. Her character was supposed to be some kind of healer, or magician, or something. She must have fallen asleep while waiting for Sylas and Lynx’s turns to end.

“Hope you don’t mind, we’ve been playing for you,” Lynx stated as she rolled a set of dice that had far too many sides.

“We figured you could use the sleep,” Sylas added. “You seem like you haven’t gotten much the last couple of days.”

It wasn’t like that. She’d gotten plenty of sleep. She’d slept a full eight hours the last couple of nights. The problem was that in December her sleep was never restful. She’d go to bed mildly exhausted from the random errands Red Hood had been having them run and wake up feeling like she’d just completed a 10K run.

Larkin offered her friends a tired smile. “It amazes me how thoughtful you can be towards someone you’ve known less than a month.”

Sylas shrugged and she felt his shoulder mover behind her back. “There’s something enthralling about you. We can’t help but worry about you. You’re so…”

“Experienced,” Lynx cut off their neighbor. “We can see the stains the past has left on you and I can feel the cracks it’s left on your soul. You’re one of us and we must take care of our own.”

“God knows no one else will,” Sylas added.

Larkin wondered if Lynx was aware that letting strangers move in with you and then immediately developing an emotional bond with them wasn’t normal. Then again, there was nothing normal about their situation and perhaps it was normal for a child of Raven. After all, Lynx’s powers were as emotional based as they were demonic. As far as Larkin knew, Lynx could be capable of developing emotional bonds just by looking at a person.

Sylas, on the other hand, was a different matter. He didn’t form emotional bonds quickly, he was just a caring and laid back person. Larkin knew little about his life but she was starting to realize that it was probably a lonely one.

Since meeting Sylas, she’d only seen him casually talking with one other person besides herself and Lynx, and that person was the strange guy that lived down the hall and drew stitches on the sides of his mouth. Though the crimson haired boy came off confident in a conversation she was starting to see that beneath his alluring exterior may be a quiet, reserved little boy.

“Hood does,” Larkin felt the need to remind her friend that the three of them weren’t entirely alone. They had the protection of the Red Hood.

Sylas scoffed. “Hood’s different. He doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s our boss, and Lynx’s dad, and your uncle. Because he cares for us out of obligation.”

“I like to think it’s more than obligation that keeps him around,” Lynx stated. “In his own way he loves all of us.”

“You’re just saying that because he’s your dad.”

Teal eyes rolled heavenward. “Think what you will.”

There was a soft, insistent beeping sound and Sylas fished his cracked phone from the pocket of his dusty jeans. He started to respond to Lynx but no words left his mouth as he read the text present on his phone’s screen.

“Speaking of your dad,” Sylas stated after typing back a reply to whoever had messaged him, “he just texted me. He sent a case file to our emails. We’re supposed to look over it.”

“I’ll get my laptop,” Lynx stood to retrieve her laptop from her bedroom.

“Does this mean a job?” Larkin inquired as her cousin went to get the device they required to look over the case file.

Sylas wiggled his hand. “Eh, it’s a fifty-fifty chance. Sometimes Hood sends us case files just for the sake of us all being up to date on the latest crime lords and their activity. Other times it’s because we’re about to become a part of the file.”

“I wonder if we’ll be doing another job against Thomas Loan.”

“Probably not. It’s only been a month since the last time we hit him. Hood will keep us on the down low around him because we got caught. Loan will be on the lookout for us for at least another month. He’s not the only shark in the sea, though.”

When Lynx returns with her purple laptop it’s already open and she’s typing away on it as she balances it on one of her arms.

“This is intense,” Lynx stated. “I’ve never seen a case like this before.”

The demoness sets the laptop down on the floor and Sylas and Larkin move to sit by her so they can see the screen. Lynx opened the photos attached to the email and scrolled through them.

The first photo was of a lock of blond hair, the second photo was of a small feather, and the third was of a body tied to a chair with a bullet wound in the head.

“What is this?” Sylas asked?”

Lynx shook her head. “No one knows, apparently. It says here that Hood gained the file from a dirty cop. The photos are from a small string of petty crimes committed in the upper district, “Lynx scrolled through the file further. “At each crime the perp broke into the building and left an object behind. They didn’t take anything. They just broke in and left something.”

“Does it say what buildings were hit?”

Lynx nodded and then frowned.  

“What is it?” Larkin asked.

“Each of these places are owned by Wayne Enterprises. They’re all sub-companies.”

“That means our target is probably one of the Wayne’s,” Sylas chanced a glance at Lynx and Larkin to see how they reacted to his words. Neither girl’s face changed as they both stared at the computer screen intently.

“Stop scrolling for a minute,” Larkin requested and pointed at something on the screen. “There’s a witness report….its from a janitor.”

Lynx read over the words her cousin was pointing at. “It says that a mister Earl. J Martian was working at Wayne tower the night the perp broke in. He reported that the man walked in wearing a ski mask and dragging a dead body behind him. It says here that he locked Earl in a closet and when the police found him the next day the body was tied to the desk chair of Timothy Drake-Wayne.

“Timothy and Damian Wayne co-run the company,” Sylas stated. “Why was Timothy the one who got the body?”

“I think the better question is why father is sending us this case file instead of handling it himself,” Lynx stated. “This is obviously an attack on the Waynes. Maybe even an attack on the Robins, if the bird feather means anything.”

“Then the perpetrator would have to be someone who knows the identity of the robins,” Sylas thought out loud.

“Or the identity of at least one of them,” Larkin added. “If we consider that the body was left in Drake’s office and not Wayne’s.”

“So the perpetrator’s after Red Robin?” Sylas questioned. “Why not confront him on the streets? Why go through all the trouble to break into his companies and leave little clues? Is he some kind of new Riddler?”

Lynx shook her head. “I don’t think so, but the objects can’t possibly be a calling card. They have to mean something.”

“A lock of blond hair, a feather, and a dead guy,” Larkin mused. “Do we know who the corpse is?”

Lynx clicked on a few attachments before a picture of the victim popped up on her laptop, along with a resume and a list of background information.

“He’s a cop. Or he was a cop. He left the GCPD nine years ago. His name was Officer John Richardson. He had a clean record and no connection to the Waynes, as far as I can tell.”

Sylas pulled out his phone. “I’m going to ask Hood what he wants us to do about this file.”

“No need,” Lynx replies. “He wrote in the email that he wants us to check it out.”

“What are we supposed to do? Patrol the Wayne companies? That’s in the Bat’s territory,” Sylas stated disbelievingly. “If we’re caught over there we’ll be sent to jail. The Bat sees us as criminals. He won’t hesitate to book us.”

“So we don’t let him see us,” Larkin stated.

“You thinking undercover?” Lynx smirked.

Larkin nodded. “Daylight patrol instead of night. We come up with alibies to get us into the companies –especially into Wayne Tower –and new identities to help us blend in.”

“That might just work,” Lynx agreed. “I’d say our overall goal for this case is basic recon. We go in, we gather Intel, and we leave. Once we give what we’ve learned to Hood then we’ll see how he wants to proceed from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sylas stated. “This is going to require some research into the Wyane industry, though, and some contact with the Wayne’s themselves. You girls think you can handle it?”

“They won’t even know who we are,” Larkin informed. “I’m sure we can handle that.”

“You know, this might be a good opportunity to try out some reality distortion spells I’ve been practicing. We might not even have to gather disguises if I can make people think we appear differently then we do.”

“Fine, but practice it before we go. I don’t want to get there and find out you can’t do the spell,” Sylas stated.

“That only happened once,” Lynx rolled her eyes.

“Twice.”

“Once. That business in the sewer doesn’t count.”


End file.
